A Bad Thing Done Right
by Dream Charmer
Summary: The world ended and then lurched forward again, broken beyond repair. They have to go sideways and under and all the way from here to there if they wish to set things right.
1. Prologue

Who: Sakura, Izuna

What: action/adventure

Summary: The world ended, and waited a moment, and began anew, but not in any way either of them could have expected. They have to go sideways and under and all the way from here to there if they wish to set things right.

Warnings: nothing particularly horrible

-/-

 ** _Prologue_**

 _(the crossroads)_

-/-

She opens her eyes.

She closes them again and inhales deeply, drawing in as much air as she can. It feels as if she has forgotten how to breathe, as if her lungs have been in disuse for days, and it's almost painful now that they expand in her chest.

It smells like earth and grass, and a little bit like rain – familiar scents that put her in mind of late spring or maybe early summer when she leaves the window open before going to bed and next morning awakens in a room that might just pass for a forest, so fresh and fragrant and full of promises is the air.

She opens her eyes again and looks at the blue sky above her.

Feather-like clouds are strewn across its wide expanse, drifting slowly on the wind. The sun is rising, its first rays spilling over the horizon. A bird begins to chirp hesitantly, stops, then picks up the song again, almost triumphantly.

It's dawn, she thinks.

She has always liked waking up at dawn.

At dawn, she has always thought, one could almost believe the world was young and new again, a world in which she could be new too, weightless and carefree, and wouldn't that be great-

"You've got some nerve if you can smile like that when all your friends are dead."

-/-

She glares at him from across the cold ashes of the yesterday's fire.

"They're _not_ dead!"

"As good as dead then." He keeps his voice flat, almost casual, and is immediately rewarded by the pained, desperate look on the face of the kunoichi. It lasts only a split second though – she pushes back her pink hair, purses her lips, sticks out her chin and looks at him with obvious disgust.

"Don't you dare say that! They're only sleeping, and you know it."

"Do I? Do _you_ know it? You're guessing and choosing to believe your wild guess because if you don't, you'll have to accept the truth. And the truth is that they are dead or – yes, indeed – dying in their eternal sleep."

"They are not – will not – die! Will you stop repeating this over and over again? I will find a way to save them. I swear I will, whether you believe it or not. Suit yourself." There it is again, he thinks, that defiant expression, that completely unreasonable, idiotic confidence. Does she really believe a world gone mad is a place where she can just hope her way through every hardship?

He feels inexplicably angry all of a sudden.

"Good luck with that," he sneers as he gets up to his feet and turns away from her.

She hates him – as well she might – and he finds a strange sort of pleasure in it. It is sick and unnatural, perhaps, but some part of him seems to believe that by drawing her further into panic and despair he can lessen his own fear.

No, not fear.

His rage and indignation.

How can it be, he thinks, that he is back to find his whole clan massacred instead of ruling this land, as it should be. How can it be that some little upstart, good-for-nothing excuse for a kunoichi who doesn't even have a bloodline limit dares lecture him, of all people, about his brother's crimes and presume she knows better.

He should have never agreed to accompany her in the first place.

He should just leave her and be done with it.

"Wait, where are you going?"

Somewhere where she will not follow him. Except...

"Wherever I want to go. What business is it of yours?"

"What do you mean – what business is it of mine? Didn't we agree we were in this together? You said you would help me!"

"I changed my mind. Your constant yapping gets on my nerves. Do you even know how to be quiet?"

She stares at him in utter disbelief. A moment passes in silence, and for some reason, he feels uncomfortable under her gaze.

She sighs in exasperation.

"You know what? I can't even believe I'm saying this – and this early in the morning, too! - but I'm beginning to think I would be better off with your brother. Because of the two of you, he may be insane, but you're obviously the bigger jerk."

"What?"

She pauses, looking away from him, then heaves another sigh. Suddenly, she no longer appears so young and childish.

"I really don't know why you insist on hating me," she continues tiredly and a little sadly. "I mean, it makes no sense. You never met me before... Hell, you were dead until recently. And now you're alive and the first thing you do is decide to insult me and make my life difficult. As if the it's not bad enough already."

"Well, what do you want from me?" he asks impatiently and realizes that he actually does want to hear her answer. It is... important, for some reason.

He doesn't like the idea.

She straightens up and looks him in the eye again, her gaze steady and unwavering,

"For starters, I really want you to give it a break. I can't fight this... whatever this is that's going on _and_ you at the same time. Stop trying to provoke me. _Please_."

He remains silent, waiting for her to go on, and indeed she does.

"You can see how things are. It's all wrong. It's.. warped, somehow. I don't know what happened with Madara's Infinite Tsukuyomi, why I'm not asleep or why you are alive, but I know I want to save my friends. Naruto, Sasuke, everyone... I want to save them. I want to make things right. I want my life back! And I'm not sure I can't do it alone. There is only so much one can do alone."

She hesitates a little, then takes a step toward him, then another, until she is standing so close she could touch him if she wanted to. He can see her every eyelash, every line of her face.

He wonders why he is not pushing her away. He really should.

But she looks so impossibly alive, the only human being beside himself who is alive in this endless dreamland, that he finds himself oddly reluctant to do so.

Her hands are balled into fists and her face is drawn, but she does not flinch or stammer, nor does she try to skirt around the issue.

"I need your help. You have the Mangekyo Sharingan. You are Madara's brother, you knew... you understand him and his jutsu. If anyone can actually help unwind this horror, I believe it's you. I'm asking you to help me. I promise that I will do whatever I can to help you too, if ever you need something from me."

She falls silent, waiting for his answer.

The forest is whispering softly around them, and her eyes seem darker and deeper with all the lavish green reflected in them. He realizes that he is staring at her and breaks the eye contact immediately.

"Fine," he says abruptly and leans down to pick up his sword from where it is leaning against the trunk of a nearby tree.

"Eh? Izuna?..."

"I said, fine. I will help you."

He glances at her face and is both disgusted and elated to see it light up as she beams at him.

"You will? Really?" She appears to be stunned – has she been expecting him to refuse? Probably yes, he has given her enough reason to do so, after all.

"Yes, really. Now stop with that look, will you, unless you want me to reconsider my decision."

Except it's not like he has anywhere to go.

It's not like anyone is waiting for him either.

There is only Sakura

A broken, shattered world and a girl who wants to save it by gluing the pieces together, he thinks grimly.

He couldn't have found a better moment to be resurrected, indeed.

-/-

* * *

 _(to be continued)_

* * *

A/N: well, it's been a while. I was asked to write more SakuraSasuke stuff, to be honest, but there're so many wonderful stories about them already, so I decided to chose another Uchiha. It's a bit more interesting this way... But I promise you'll like my version of Izuna! Oh yes :)

Next time: we'll learn how Sakura managed to get so unlucky

Please let me know what you think!


	2. Happily Never After

**A/N: the prologue doesn't really count, does it?**

 **So here goes the real thing - Chapter 1, in which Sakura and Izuna are both surprised and neither of them likes it.**

* * *

Chapter 1

 _(happily never after)_

-/-

The research was proceeding splendidly.

In fact, if she was any judge at all – and she was – it would only take her a couple more days to get the final result. Then she would have to run the tests, of course, and these things could get tricky and rather bureaucratic, what with all the permissions she would have to obtain, but Sakura was fairly sure no one in Konoha would try to slow her down on purpose and that was what counted.

Just a few more days, and they'd be able to cure some of the most extreme cases of chakra depletion with far greater ease, making sure the injured could return to their duties and no one remained handicapped for life.

Well, that was the plan, anyway.

Sakura stretched and yawned, and then yawned again, like her life depended on it.

Apparently, the plan would have to wait until next morning.

She was barely able to keep her eyes open _and_ she still had a daughter to take care of. Had she even prepared a dinner for Sarada before dashing out of the door to get back to work?...

Sighing, she got out of the chair – it creaked in protest - shoved the notes into the bag and marched out of the lab, a determined if somewhat guilty expression on her face. No, she had no doubts Sarada was capable and mature enough to cook her own dinner once or twice a month without feeling orphaned, and Sasuke was away on a mission and not due to return till much later in summer, and her research was bound to be an epic breakthrough likely to save lives, sure, but it was still aggravating to realize that she was apparently a very bad mother to her only daughter.

Locking the door carefully, she walked out into the street only to find out that it was even later than she had originally thought.

The sky was completely dark, the full moon shining brightly down on the village. The street lamps were lit, fireflies dancing their merry ritual dances around them. The shops and restaurants were mostly open, though – aha! it was late but not _too_ late – and many people were still around, eating out, chatting and laughing, enjoying the warm summer evening.

Lost in thought, Sakura smiled at no one in particular – although, unknown to her, a stray cat that was busy chewing methodically on someone's leftover fish sandwich seemed unnerved at being suddenly grinned at.

Oblivious to the powerful effect of her gaze, Sakura fixed her hair with one hand, feeling absurdly happy.

 _It's been a decade_ , she thought as she started down the street, _and I still feel like I should treasure every moment of peace. Shouldn't I be used to it by now?_

It still amazed her sometimes that Konoha had grown so much – and so rapidly. Not only had it been rebuilt, but it was now almost twice as big as it used to be and bustling with activity. Since the War, they had led a life so peaceful – at least by shinobi standards – that it was almost unnatural and alarming.

In her opinion, they had all deserved it, though. No wars, no evil organizations, no one planning to dominate the world in order to achieve some twisted, obscure goal, that was how life should be. She was so happy to be able to just concentrate on healing people and doing medical research, too.

Well, maybe she _did_ sometimes - very seldom - think nostalgically about their exciting past, remembering how she and Naruto and everyone else had fought together against Akatsuki and then Madara, united in a way they had never been before. But those moments were brief – no one in their right mind would miss war, after all. Certainly not her. War had kept her and Sasuke away from each other. War had nearly ripped them all apart forever.

Sakura's thoughts turned back to the present.

If only Sasuke would take a hint and stay home a bit longer this time. How often did he get to see Sarada and, well, _her_ , what with being away on missions all the time? She should just go and tell him when he got back, what was he thinking, working himself to death like that.

 _Whatever_ , she huffed inwardly. This time, her message would definitely reach him. Either her message or her chakra-infused punch.

Well, not likely. But it was worth a try.

Besides, she had always wanted to go on a family vacation with him and Sarada, if only for a short while. They could travel to the Land of Waves...

She supposed they could and should offer to take Boruto with them to keep Sarada company. With any luck, the children would go fishing or swimming or climbing dangerous places or just generally wreaking havoc and causing mayhem, leaving Sasuke and her to enjoy their time together and reminisce about the past, the Land of Waves being where Team Seven had gone to carry out their first mission ever all those years ago.

Cheering up even more, Sakura hurried home, a spring in her step and a smile still on her face.

-/-

Some distance away from Konoha, in a dark, abandoned place, a man opened his eyes for the first time in a hundred years.

A few seconds passed as he lay there, unmoving, refusing to as much as blink.

The stone floor under his back was hard and cold. He thought about it and realized it was uncomfortable.

It was quiet, but he could still hear the soft sound of _something_ scurrying along the far wall of the room. The quick patter of its little feet was familiar enough – _a rat_ , he thought, _a big one_.

He breathed in the air and found it stuffy and moldy. There was dust all around him – under his fingers where they touched the floor and in the air so that he could almost taste it on his tongue as he inhaled again.

Blood was sweet and tasted of metal and finality, and he was well-acquainted with it. Dust made him think of hopelessness and weakness, of things left behind because they were no use to anyone anymore.

He coughed and sat up abruptly, wiping his mouth with a sleeve.

The room was dark, but not completely – some feeble light was coming from above where in the ceiling there was an open trapdoor, the only available exit to the outside world. Above would be another room with several tatami on the floor and a single window in the eastern wall.

He peered up at the trapdoor and strained his hearing, listening intently for the sounds that never came. The rat in the corner went silent, then resumed its mysterious activities with renewed enthusiasm and vigor.

Concentrating, he probed for any nearby chakra signatures and found none.

For a moment, he wanted to call out but the silence felt so oppressive, so old – _ancient_ – that he found himself unable to do so.

Alone. He really was alone here.

That was not right.

He felt odd, too – neither sick, nor weakened, not even physically tired, but inexplicably odd, like a person waking up from a terrible nightmare but unable to remember what the dream had even been about.

He cast his gaze around the room he was in. It was empty, except for what appeared to be a pile of dirty old rags off to his left.

And to his right, there was a sheathed sword, lying on the floor. It was long and narrow and unadorned, a traditional _katana_ popular in the region in general and well-loved by shinobi. He recognized it instantly. There was no doubt as to who the sword belonged to.

Him.

Without hesitation, he reached out and let his fingers close around the scabbard. The material was familiar to the touch and unexpectedly comforting. In the barely illuminated cellar, he half-drew the sword and stared down at the blade, knowing its sharpness, knowing how deadly it could be in his hands if he so desired.

Very slowly, he raised the blade and held it horizontally at eye-level.

In the darkness, his eyes glowed red, changing, morphing into a pattern that had been the last thing many of his enemies saw in their lives. The red reflected dimly off the steel, and he slid the sword back into the scabbard and let it drop into his lap.

It was all wrong.

How could it be that he was still able to use his Sharingan when he had given his eyes to his brother shortly before his death?

He should be blind. He should not even have eyes, much less the Sharingan.

In fact, he should be dead.

-/-

"Mom," said Sarada in a reassuring voice. "Don't worry. I'm perfectly fine. I'm not hungry."

"I didn't even cook anything for you!" Sakura stabbed her fork into the omelet viciously.

"Well, it's not like your miso soup is something to look forward to..."

"What?!"

"Just kidding. I just got back myself, you know."

"And where were you so late, pray tell?" Sakura's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Boruto's place. His mom invited us all over because she's accidentally baked more than they can eat even if they don't stop chewing until morning."

There was no way in hell Sakura was going to believe that Hinata baked a ton of extra cakes accidentally. She must have realized Sakura was too busy to feed her own daughter, and decided to help out.

That had to be it.

Hinata was, as always, the epitome of caring and gentle. Sakura made a mental note to thank her friend and make it up to her somehow.

"I'm a lousy mother. I admit it." She sighed. "But I'll get better, I promise. Like, tomorrow I'll be back by seven in the evening. How's that?"

"Awesome." Sarada trotted out of the kitchen and came back ten seconds later with a big paper bag.

"What's this thing?" asked Sakura eyeing the bag suspiciously.

"What do you think?" Sarada upended the bag on the table, producing a small mountain of Hinata's excellent cookies.

They looked delicious. No matter how much it pained Sakura to admit this, but Hinata' cooking skills were second to none, while hers left a lot to be desired and revolved mostly around soup, chicken wings and scrambled eggs.

Sarada grinned at her across the table.

"Dig in, Mom."

She did.

It was almost midnight, she was sitting in the kitchen with her daughter, stuffing herself with cookies that contained so many calories, she would wake up tomorrow only to find she had become fatter than Chouji after ten barbecues, and she was completely, utterly happy.

 _Come back home, Sasuke_ , she thought, _come back soon, look at us here, it's perfect, it's unbelievable, it's all ours and it's not going anywhere._

-/-

Izuna Uchiha roamed through the empty halls and corridors and recognized every door and every turn.

It was, after all, his home. If push came to shove, he could move within these walls blindfolded and never stumble or bump into anything as he did.

Or so he had thought, anyway, until he pulled himself out of the cellar and took in the sight in front of him.

 _Decrepit_ was, in his opinion, the best and the most suitable term to describe it. _Falling apart_ was the other one that sprang to mind. No matter how he tried to turn the situation around in his head, no matter what kind of awful scenarios he came up with, nothing could explain the state of the premises.

Seeing how the place was completely devoid of human presence, he had tucked the sword into the sash around his waist, as was his habit, and deactivated the Sharingan.

The sound of his footsteps, however light, echoed faintly as he walked on, pausing occasionally to examine his surroundings more closely.

He could imagine the possibility of his whole clan suddenly deciding to relocate, due to any of the multitude of possible reasons, and leaving in haste, taking all their possession with them. He could imagine – albeit reluctantly and only theoretically – that they had been attacked and defeated, and had to escape, although no one had ever escaped the enemy carrying tables, chairs, rolled-up blankets and kitchen utensils – and he could find no trace of those anywhere.

There was nothing, except for a thick layer of dust that came up in gray clouds around his feet as he walked, and hung in the air, making him cough and try to hide his face inside the high collar of the shirt.

On the sunny side of the building, a cherry tree had grown inside the room, splitting the floorboards and leaning outside through the window so as to catch more sunlight. Weeds and grass grew sporadically in most rooms. In some of them, the roof had collapsed.

Spiders inhabited every corner, their ornate webs swaying gently in the wind that roamed the building. Rats looked up at him in surprise when they saw him coming, not the least bit inclined to interpret his presence as a danger.

Empty rooms with only one or two items of furniture left lying around, all rotten wood, falling apart as soon as he touched it; an old kunai, so rusty and dirty Izuna felt disgusted as much as hold it in his hands; shards of a broken mirror and a hairpiece; and barely identifiable rags that once upon a time might just have been the clothes with the Uchiha crest on the back. That was all that was left.

The place looked like it had been abandoned for years. Dozens of years, maybe, if the cherry tree was any indication. It had grown quite big and strong.

Which was impossible.

It just couldn't be!

He could remember how many of his clansmen had gathered around them as Madara carried him home after the fateful battle with the Senju, and that had been mere days ago, hadn't it? Where had they all gone?

Suddenly, Izuna realized that he could not stand being indoors even a moment longer. The place was suffocating him. It was creeping him out.

It made him want to tear the walls down and burn the remains with his best Fire Style jutsu.

He quickened his pace, entered the nearby room which he knew to possess a window – it was, of course, broken – and leaped outside, landing smoothly in the tall grass.

Straightening up, Izuna sniffed at the air and knew immediately that it was summer. Except it had been autumn when he died.

When he died.

With unseeing eyes, Izuna gazed into the distance. Instinctively, his right hand found the hilt of the sword and gripped it. It was nice and reassuring to hold it when the rest of the world refused to make any sense.

He should be dead but wasn't.

Supposing he had survived after all, he still should be injured and blind – but wasn't.

He should be surrounded by his people but they were gone.

The seasons didn't add up.

And on top of everything else, he realized with bitter clarity, he was hungry as hell and had no idea where he could get any food.

-/-

"...really not listening to me at all, are you, Mom?"

"Huh? Ohhh..." Sakura felt embarrassed, caught daydreaming about a potential belated honeymoon with Sasuke. "I'm afraid, I'm still a bit distracted. I'm so sorry."

"Is it your work?" The look of concern on Sarada's face made her feel even more ashamed.

"No, of course not. My work is actually going very well, I'm about to have a breakthrough really soon." She grinned sheepishly. "And that's where I stop working so much and get to spend more time with you."

"And with Dad. When he comes home."

"And with Dad." Sakura winked at her.

"Alright," said Sarada and hesitated, as if on the verge of adding something else, but eventually decided against it.

Sakura frowned. She hated it when people were so obviously not telling her things. Getting this attitude from her own daughter was even worse. Getting it from her _and_ feeling guilty at the same time was just plain infuriating.

She pushed the remaining food away from her and sat straight, looking Sarada in the eye.

If she wanted to catch up on her parenting duties, now was the time.

"What's up? You can tell me anything, you know... Look, I understand that lately I've been awfully absent and busy but—"

"It's not that. I told you, I understand." Sarada looked away for a moment, and the expression on her face made her resemble Sasuke so much that Sakura felt her chest constricted by tenderness and pride and fear – fear that things might go wrong with them all, that the peace would not last, that she would lose Sarada to something dark and terrible like she had nearly lost Sasuke once. A million terrible ideas raced through her head at lightning speed.

No. She would not dwell on this. She would not become paranoid when there was no call for it.

"Please tell what it is then," she said calmly.

"Well, it's just that... Guh! It's so weird talking to you about this!"

"Weird?" Oh no. No!

Sakura felt her face go beet red. It couldn't be the time for The Talk, could it? No way. It was too early! She was unprepared, and it was an important issue – she had always planned to have a long, serious conversation when the time came, not the usual crap about bees and flowers or a useless find-out-for-yourself chat. And anyway, deep down, a part of her hoped Sasuke would be the unlucky one in charge of explaining these things!

She steeled her heart and decided to brave the danger.

"Tell me anyway."

"Have you been having nightmares lately, Mom?"

Huh? Nightmares?

"I mean, have you forgotten everything?" Sarada smiled at her, illuminated eerily by the full moon's light streaming through the open window. Her eyes were black and wide open.

An involuntary shiver ran down Sakura's back. Something was off.

"Forgotten what exactly?"

"All your talk of not giving up and never letting your friends get hurt again – did it mean nothing after all? You're fine if everyone dies now, aren't you?"

Sakura felt as if she'd been hit in the chest. There was no air to breathe.

"What...are you saying, Sarada?"

 _Am I poisoned, perhaps?_

She felt suspended in the uncertainty somehow, not in pain, but clearly unwell, unable to focus properly and sort out the situation.

Maybe she'd got infected with something rare in the hospital and hadn't noticed because the symptoms were only now beginning to manifest? Sarada would never say such things to her. That was out of question. And it didn't sound like her daughter to begin with. Why would Sarada talk of everyone dying?

Wasn't it –

"Are you so weak and shallow that you're content to close your eyes to the reality and just watch your fluffy little dreams until you're dead too?"

Sarada's voice seemed to come from both far away and across the table at the same time. Cracks were appearing in the walls – Sakura could not see them but knew nonetheless – and something red was seeping slowly through, dripping on the floor. The sound was quiet but deafening. The cozy kitchen's corners were fading slowly into the mist – or was it dense fog? – but Sarada remained sitting, unperturbed, and Hinata's cookies on the shining surface of the table between them looked as appetizing as ever.

As if paralyzed, Sakura stared at the cookies. They were part of the normal world, not this hallucination. She didn't want them to disappear.

Her thoughts turned sluggish, lazy, reluctant to obey her will, and the will itself seemed to be slipping away, and all she wanted was to close her eyes and sleep sleep –

"Is this really the end, then?" The voice was rather high-pitched and angry, a young girl's voice, although not Sarada's. "After all that you've been through? After all the effort and pain – this? Are you for real?!"

And she knew this voice from somewhere, she was sure of it. If only she could think straight right now...

Forcing herself to stay awake, she looked at Sarada again and saw a pair of bright green eyes, glaring right back at her in indignation and disbelief.

A familiar-looking girl of twelve or so years old – long, pink hair, red dress, small, angry mouth and big forehead - jumped out of Sarada's chair and slammed her fist into the table, sending the cookies flying in all directions. The table cracked and fell into pieces.

Panicking, Sakura tried to get up as well, but something – a snake? a rope? - shot out of the floor (why did the floor look like bare earth? how long would it take her to sweep out all the dust and dirt?) and wound around her, constricting her movements, pinning her left arm to her side.

"You stupid moron!" screamed the pink-haired girl, pointing a trembling finger at Sakura. "Get your act together! Wake up _right now_ and get your ass moving! We have to save Sasuke!"

Save Sasuke? But _come on_ –

"Snap the hell out of it! There's no time! We have to dispel the Infinite Tsukuyomi or it's the end! We have to save everyone! Now! _Now!_ " shrieked the girl, her eyes blazing in the moonlight. She lunged forward, swung her arm and punched Sakura squarely in the face.

The pain was acute and Sakura jerked back, eyes rolling. She felt the blood trickle down her chin. The snake-like thing tightened around her body immediately, holding her fast.

All around her, the world was crumbling, whole patches of it peeling back and dissipating like smoke. The kitchen was no longer anywhere to be seen, the pieces of the broken table had disappeared. The girl was gone too.

She was struggling to break free, fighting against something bigger, greater than herself, trying to force her way out of its smothering embrace. There was no time to process what was going on, to try and make sense of it, she was in danger – all her ninja training, her every instinct screamed at her from inside her head – she had to act now, think later!

Whatever power she still had, she would have to use it – she would give it her all, she would _not_ lose.

She concentrated, ignoring the complete darkness that was now enveloping her like a cocoon, pressing in on all sides. It didn't matter if her eyes could not see the light.

In her heart, she had saved it intact.

Pouring the rest of her strength and determination, her will and her desire to live and be free into one last effort, Sakura lunged – leaped – flew – forward and upward, kicking back at the place where the snake-like monstrosity must be sprouting from.

There was a terrible moment of uncertainty, when her life hung in balance, undecided, and then a sound of something snapping loudly, a crack, and she was soaring – or maybe falling – freely.

She hit something hard, tried in vain to nullify the impact, rolled clumsily onto her back and lay still.

The taste of blood in her mouth was both disgusting and welcome.

She was free. She was alive. _Well_ , she thought hazily, _at least I can safely say that even a younger me could pack one hell of a punch._

The darkness was gone, and she could see again.

She was lying on the ground and above her, in the low, overcast sky, hung the red moon, barely visible between the ragged clouds. Up there, the wind was strong and fierce, and as it dragged the clouds closer to the moon, they glowed red, lit from the inside, like lanterns on a festival night, except the color was more than unnatural. It was disturbing and unhealthy on some deep, gut-wrenching level.

Sakura turned her head to the side and saw what she already expected to see – the beautiful if austere landscape of the Land of Lightning, the place where they had fought Madara on the second day of the War.

The place where he had cast his Infinite Tsukuyomi on them.

But of Madara there was no trace now.

A few paces away from her lay a long, sinister-looking _thing_ – a root, she knew, of the World Tree that used to be wrapped around her body, draining her of chakra and of life itself. It was broken and torn off but twitching still, as if trying to pull itself into a coil, like a sentient being convulsing in agony. Sakura shuddered and tore her gaze away from the revolting sight. It was safe now or she would have already been ensnared again.

She looked past the root.

And saw the bodies.

-/-

* * *

 _(to be continued)_

* * *

A/N: If the stuff I write is short, I feel plain weird about it.

Anyway, next time - Sakura gets to meet Izuna.

Please review - let me know what you think!


	3. Worst Laid Plans

**Chapter 2**

 _(worst laid plans)_

-/-

" _When all else fails, retreat"_

-from the **Thirty-Six Stratagems** , a Chinese military essay

-/-

In the center of a forest clearing, Izuna was roasting a rabbit over the fire he had started with a ninjutsu.

It was a nice, fat rabbit, and Izuna was rather looking forward to the upcoming meal. Although if he had to be honest with himself, he was so hungry he was ready to eat his own sword.

Izuna liked to think of himself as a sensible, pragmatic person, so as soon as the hunger manifested itself he went hunting, putting aside all complicated metaphysical matters. Food was food. Sustenance was not something to be sniffed at, and if he happened to be alive – however bizarre the fact was – he might as well take care of himself.

Besides, nothing worthy of mentioning had ever been invented on an empty stomach.

He caught the rabbit using the Sharingan – it was the fastest way – killed it quickly and stopped where he was, which happened to be in the middle of nowhere, because one place was as good as the other under the circumstances. Then he proceeded to skin the animal, built a fire, and used his _katana_ as a spit. He had done that in the past, more times than he could possibly count, because sometimes missions and travels would take longer than expected or bring him into places no one would ever dare to call hospitable even if they were paid to do so.

Frankly speaking, few ordinary people were ever happy to see a shinobi and fewer still rejoiced at the sight of an Uchiha.

 _As well they might_ , thought Izuna, proud of his clan even as he finally plunged his teeth into the meat, feeling something akin to happiness wash over him.

Shinobi had to stay shinobi, not mingle with ordinary folk. And the Uchiha had to exercise double caution – they had too many dangerous enemies to relax and allow themselves to trust outsiders. Having the reputation of the most ruthless clan had its many perks, of course, even if sometimes it made their life a bit more difficult.

His thoughts returned to the issue at hand.

What was _wrong_ with the world? He had been thinking about the situation, methodically examining all possible versions and finding none of them particularly enticing or believable.

Supposing he hadn't really died – which couldn't possibly have happened, not with that wound – no one would be able to convince him he hadn't given his eyes to Madara so his brother could protect the clan. Their last conversation and all that followed after was still fresh in his mind, including some of the more painful and gruesome details he'd rather forget. The taste of blood in his mouth, the effort it cost him to draw breath, Madara's face, contorted by the agony of a terrible choice that was not even a choice, and then the last moment when the pain exploded in his head like a star, numbing all senses, eclipsing the light forever, that one moment, when he really understood that it was the end, final and inevitable – and then he died.

Not that he was complaining. It had been his own idea, and one not to Madara's liking, so Izuna got to spend the very last minutes of his life trying to persuade his brother that taking his eyes was the necessary evil.

 _If you take my eyes and have my Sharingan, you will become stronger than anyone and will lay waste to the Senju clan and all our enemies, whoever they may be. You will hunt them high and low and slaughter them and avenge all of us who have fallen. You will live for my sake, too, because you're the only one can do it – so do it. There is nothing to lose._

It occurred to him then that the decision might have been much harder for Madara than for him. Izuna wondered suddenly how Madara felt, being the last of the five brothers, having watched them all slip away one by one, leaving him empty-handed and alone, dumping on him the weight of their unfulfilled lives.

And Madara had always been the one dreaming of putting an end to the wars and the strife one day...

It was so strange to think about it in this way. It made Izuna feel guilty and angry about the things he could not change, and he hated the feeling. He shoved it firmly out of his mind.

He'd done what needed to be done. End of story.

And in truth, he could still appreciate the sheer beauty of it all. He would be dead, but his eyes would live on and would serve his clan and its leader bringing about the downfall of the Senju, ending his killer's life, witnessing the triumph of the Uchiha, their final, indisputable victory. It was poetic in just the right way. His death was a proper shinobi death. No regrets.

And he was – _had been_ – dying anyway, whether he liked it or not, no thanks to Tobirama Senju.

Only now he was alive. Somehow.

Izuna sighed, realizing he'd got side-tracked.

Also, he'd finished the rabbit.

He wiped the blade clean with a handful of grass and sheathed it. Laying it beside him, close enough so he could easily reach it should such a need arise, he extinguished the fire and then stretched out on the grass, closing his eyes.

 _Fine,_ he thought, _let's start all over again._

If he had indeed survived against all odds, only lost consciousness or slipped into coma, logic dictated that he would have to awaken in his room in the Uchiha hideout. Which was more or less what had occurred, with the exception of the room turning out to be the cellar, but that could be explained. For example, his clansmen might have transported him – and, perhaps, all other wounded – into the cellar because the base was under attack. That would have been a sensible course of action. What didn't make sense was why they would have left him alone there and disappeared. Abandoning incapacitated clan members was most definitely _not_ what any Uchiha was taught to do. It was one of the many faces of betrayal. Madara, of all people, would have never allowed it. He was utterly unforgiving of traitors and deserters.

Hm. Maybe they mistook him for dead?

Izuna himself had never in his life encountered a seemingly dead man who would later on show up elsewhere, alive and kicking, not when he had the Sharingan to unmask potential trickery and finish the job if the enemy was being clever. But it was a possibility nonetheless, he was in no position to discard it just because it had never happened to him.

Or to his brother. Or to anyone he knew. Perhaps it happened to some other people all the time and he just didn't know.

So, maybe they'd done all they could to save his life, then they got attacked, carried him into the cellar to keep him safe, went to battle and lost it and were forced to escape. And he appeared dead, so they left him there because there was no time to bury the body.

 _Oh yes, very likely._ He almost cringed at the improbability of such a story.

Izuna rubbed the back of his hand across his eyes and tried to stay focused.

Which brought him to the next issue. His Sharingan eyes.

 _Let's see how I can weasel my way out of_ this _now,_ he told himself dryly.

He had given his eyes to Madara who was almost blind by that moment, and he could remember the process, so to speak, so there could be no mistake about this one. That should have left _him_ blind.

Izuna gazed up at the passing clouds absentmindedly. The evening sky was changing color, blue fading into gray with a soft red glow of the unfolding sunset lighting it up, darkening slowly.

Perhaps they had transplanted some other Uchiha's eyes into him? Someone who was also dying, because he could not imagine Madara killing off a clan member, not even to save his younger brother. So it only could have been someone already on the threshold of death _and_ someone who had awakened the Sharingan as well.

So far, so good. He could imagine it happening. There was no proof, but logically, using the eyes of a distant relative would seal his Mangekyo Sharingan forever, but all basic Sharingan jutsu would remain accessible along with the fully restored eyesight, and thus he would still be a valuable asset to his clan. Provided he recovered from the wound, of course.

By the way. He hadn't actually checked if he could still activate the Mangekyo Sharingan, had he? Maybe he should just do it now–

 _No._

He was a little surprised to realize how reluctant he was to try, and at the same time, in the back of his mind the knowledge stirred, waking – and he squashed the impulse to let it float to the surface.

 _Not now. Later._

Izuna sighed. Unrealistic and extremely far-fetched though it all was, he would gladly play along and pretend this was exactly what had transpired, but he was not generally given to the habit of lying to himself or ignoring the obvious, and the Uchiha compound had clearly been rotting away for who knew how many years, everything in there practically screamed about it. The only possible reason was, well, _that it really had been abandoned long ago_. There was no going around the evidence.

And if he was unable to provide a satisfactory story to explain that little fact, it rendered completely useless whatever else he managed to come up with. The pieces had to all fit together.

 _Fine._

Izuna stood up, and squinted at the horizon.

There would be a village not far to the north. The Uchiha clan considered it to be their territory, which, in that case, meant that the head of the village acknowledged their presence, welcomed it more than that of other shinobi clans and ensured the villagers would cooperate with the Uchiha whenever needed, while the Uchiha, in turn, would protect the village from the outside enemies, of which there was never a shortage.

Izuna had visited the place quite often, sometimes on Madara's behalf, other times because he needed to stock up on certain supplies, and he felt quite sure that a short conversation with the village elders would at least shed some light on the mystery he had to solve.

He picked up the sword and set off in the direction of the north.

If he didn't stop again, he would be there by nightfall.

-/-

All was quiet on the battlefield in the Land of Lightning as the night close inevitably in.

On the southern edge, Sakura was having a hard time coming to terms with the reality that unfolded before her eyes.

After checking her chakra reserves and, predictably enough, finding that she was completely depleted and didn't even have it in her to heal a minor injury, Sakura listened carefully for any bad news her body might decide to tell her. Unfortunately, it had a lot to share – at least one of her ribs was broken and it hurt to breathe. Any daring attempts to bend or stretch or even turn around resulted in a jolt of pain sharp enough to make her gasp. Apart from that, she had a big bump on her head, her nose was bleeding profusely, and her left ankle was sprained. She tried to put her weight on her left leg and nearly collapsed. The words she blurted out at that moment were definitely not among those she would want to repeat in the presence of decent people.

If she ever encountered them again, she mused, balancing precariously on her right leg and trying very hard not to move.

As far as she could tell, everything aside from chakra depletion was the side-product of her struggle with the root of the World Tree. The sprained ankle was from where she had kicked it, and the broken rib was, obviously, a result of the disgusting thing trying to crush her and prevent her from escaping. And then, apparently, she had cracked her head on a stone when she fell. Lucky her.

Well, all things considered, it could have been much worse. For example, she could be dead. Or, she could be still lying there, cocooned, dreaming of a happy family life in a non-existent place without sorrow, like everyone else apparently was. She shivered at the idea.

As the pain receded somewhat, Sakura gathered up her resolve and limped over to the nearest body.

Lowering herself very carefully into the sitting position, she bent down to peer at the man's face. Turning him was not an option as the root holding him in place would not let her.

She didn't recognize him at all – she couldn't decide if she should be relieved or disappointed by the fact – but from his features and the color of his skin she knew he was likely one of Cloud village shinobi.

He was not breathing, it seemed, but the body was whole, with no signs of rotting showing anywhere. Sakura looked at his serene face, frozen like a mask, not a single eyelash twitching, and tried to imagine what he was dreaming of.

She wondered if he'd had the time to realize what was happening and if it made it somehow more bearable to know that he was dying in his own land, protecting his home. Would she prefer to die in in the Land of Fire rather than here? She supposed so – if she had a choice at all. But it didn't seem fair to think about such things now, when she was alive and they all weren't.

Sakura paused and frowned. She was so not getting anywhere if she continued along this line of thought. Getting depressed now, when she had already done the unimaginable by breaking free of the Infinite Tsukuyomi. That wasn't like her at all.

Which, by the way, was still an open issue. How _exactly_ had she done it? She couldn't really say. It was all so confusing, a dark jumble of half-formed thoughts inside her head. She remembered the moment when Madara had shot up into the sky and toward the moon, and cast the jutsu. The all-penetrating blinding light; the awful feeling of total helplessness that gripped her when she sensed the Infinite Tsukuyomi settling in and taking over her mind. The understanding that she had been caught and could no longer move dawning on her. She could remember all those things clearly.

Well, if she was lucky, there would eventually come a time when she would be able to go on about her business for a whole day without thinking about it.

The dream itself, however, was already beginning to fade.

She could still recall most details, like her daughter's name and how she had awakened the Sharingan, Sasuke's unkempt black hair falling over his left eye to obscure the Rinnegan, even the subject of her medical research – what wouldn't she give now to know that advanced new way of healing chakra depletion – but it was no longer as vivid and real as it used to be immediately upon waking. Piece by piece, fragment by fragment, her imaginary world was losing its charm and melting away.

Part of her regretted it. A genjutsu-induced lie though it had been, it was _her_ lie. It had been tailored specifically for her, it had starred her as the protagonist, and in it, she had been oh so happy. In the Infinite Tsukuyomi, Sasuke loved her and would always come back to her and hold her close, and their daughter resembled them both, and everyone stayed irrevocably alive and well. In real life, she was alone on the battlefield, injured, sad and surrounded by living corpses.

 _Oh crap._

She thought she was beginning to understand why Madara had grown so enamored with the Moon's Eye Plan. If she had to live as a recluse for decades, having lost all that was dear to her, she would probably end up the same or – who knew? – even worse. Maybe she, too, would want to just dream and never wake up again. Being alone and bitter would drive anyone insane.

Which, in her case, could only mean one thing – she had to act. She had to decide what she was going to do, and soon, before she lost motivation and gave in to despair.

No, that would _not_ happen. She had to hold on to that thought.

First of all, she needed to analyze the situation.

Well, she added inwardly as the fractured rib urged her in no uncertain terms to sort out her priorities, maybe she needed some pain-killers first, after all, until she got her chakra back and could heal herself properly.

Or rather...

As the idea flashed through her mind, Sakura's hands were already opening the bag strapped to her belt, rummaging through it hastily, as if she were hard pressed for time and something depended on her ability to outrun the natural order of things.

 _Yes! Here they are!_

Three soldier pills were lying on her palm, whole, unbroken by her earlier fall. Sakura exhaled, relieved, and only then realized she had been holding her breath.

She put one of the pills into her mouth and swallowed.

-/-

Izuna had found the village.

He'd half-expected it to have evaporated without a trace. There was no real reason for him to think that, but his clan was supposed to be hanging around too, and where were they? He hadn't even been able to sense his brother's chakra anywhere, and normally, unless Madara made a conscious effort to conceal his presence, he was more noticeable than a thunderstorm.

Izuna landed on a tree branch on the edge of the forest and stood there, staring, one hand on the rough surface of the tree trunk. His face remained calm and composed but only because he had always excelled at self-control.

Yes, the village was still exactly where he'd left it, metaphorically speaking. Only while he wasn't looking, it had gone and expanded, biting off a considerable chunk of the forest to the west, and had given birth to so many houses that Izuna was no longer able to see across the settlement to where it ended. The architecture was not what he had expected to see either. Apart from the low, sprawling buildings and smaller, shabby huts he was used to seeing, there were now multi-storeyed constructions, and much wider streets; and even in the dark, Izuna could spot a well-maintained road that clearly saw a lot of traffic, running away into the forest.

What the hell was going on?

He almost left then, quite ready to believe that he had got the wrong village after all, but leaving would imply that he was directionally challenged – an idea that didn't sit well with Izuna.

Anyway, this village – it simply couldn't be here, because _it couldn't be at all_. There was no such place in the Land of Fire, he was sure of it.

 _Maybe I'm asleep_ , Izuna wondered in disbelief. Another idea occurred, _or maybe I'm dying, and my brain is conjuring up these things to make it easier for me._

He frowned, _in which case I could do much better than this._

 _Or I'm in a genjutsu, and this is all an illusion._

His eyes flared dangerously. Well, that put a different spin on the situation. Whoever dared cast a genjutsu on an Uchiha was in for a nasty surprise.

Still balancing on the branch, Izuna activated the Sharingan.

The world bled red, its contours becoming sharp and clear, chakra signatures and circulation lines a translucent spiderweb of silvery-blue threads standing out against the backdrop of the faded landscape.

 _Wait._

It was an ordinary, civilian settlement. Whatever chakra the inhabitants possessed should be latent, barely detectable, an almost non-existent glow, steady but very weak. Still on the outskirts as he was and considering that most people were likely fast asleep in their beds inside the houses, he shouldn't even be able to see their chakra, much less distinguish any details about it. In that regard, Izuna was chagrined to admit, Sharingan was more limited than Byakugan which enabled the user to see through all obstacles and from a far greater distance.

Still, even with the Sharingan Izuna could tell that something abnormal was going on.

The whole village was aglow with a faint, flickering light. It was as if inside every building, behind every window, a flower were blooming, its ghostly petals moving gently in the wind. The similarity was accentuated even more by the fact that there were thinner lines reminiscent of a flower stem attached to each of them. He couldn't see where the led though or where they began. The fires were pulsating, fading in and out; and some were paler than the others, dimming even as he watched, flaring for the last time and extinguishing for good.

And something else was wrong, too.

There was no sound to be heard. No night birds, no dogs barking at the approaching intruder, no footsteps and no voices.

The silence was thick, velvety; he could very nearly touch it if only he cared enough to try. It held an eerie, expectant quality, too, and that set him on edge. The village seemed to be suspended in the darkness, adrift outside the habitual turnings of the time.

His skin crawled. There was a logic of sorts in the way the chakra flowed. He was unable to decipher it, yet, to give a name to the budding suspicion, but he could feel the shape of it and it unnerved him. It had something to do with the direction of the flow...

Without thinking, Izuna activated the Mangekyo Sharingan, realizing only a split second later that _it worked_ and that meant he could forget his previous theories about random eye transplants – he was really using his very own eyes and that couldn't be –

The lights flared brightly and the pulsating rhythm changed, becoming faster, more agitated. The map of the shining chakra threads was changing rapidly as well. There were more of them, new ones appearing – offshoots of the thicker ones – stretching, intersecting, moving in a purposeful, hungry way.

Heading, he realized a heartbeat later, straight for him.

-/-

The pills were supposed to be the last resort.

Sakura knew well enough that her body would pay her back for what she was imposing on it with a terrible exhaustion, dizziness, splitting headache and other aftereffects. She supposed it was inevitable. She was not going to spend the night among innumerable corpses if she could help it.

While she didn't fear the dead – she had stared death in the eye many times and was well past such a childish phobia – but it didn't mean she wanted them to cozy up to her while she slept.

The familiar sensation filled her from within, spread its warm fingers across her skin and sang happily in her veins as chakra began to flow through her system again. She thought, absurdly, that this must be how all of the nature felt in spring, ready to celebrate the beginning of a new cycle.

Above her, the wind swept away the clouds, and the moon hung in the empty sky, red and hungry, casting sinister shadows that seemed to stir and move and overlap.

Ecstatic, Sakura saw her hands glow a gentle green as the medical ninjutsu activated successfully. She pressed her palm onto her sprained ankle – it would be faster and easier to heal than the fractured rib, and also more sensible as it reduced her ability to move around almost to zero and that was never a good thing.

The pain lessened, then disappeared, and she probed the place with her fingers cautiously, then stood up slowly and leaned on her left leg. It didn't hurt anymore. She hopped on one foot experimentally and beamed. Nothing!

 _Now on to the bigger issue and I'll be as good as new_ , she told herself, almost giddy. It was just so _nice_ not to feel any pain.

Sakura raised her hands and pressed them to her ribcage where it hurt the most when she breathed.

 _Crack._

She froze.

 _Crack. Crackkk._

A feeling of dread welled up inside her, overwhelming, absolute –

 _Crack crack. Snap –_

Her body moved as if on its own, reflexes kicking in, throwing her sideways to let _something_ whoosh past her, nearly grazing her shoulder. Adrenaline numbed the pain that would otherwise be paralyzing, and she sent more chakra into her arm, flung it outward, pushed herself off the ground and flipped in midair, landing smoothly on her feet before her brain even got a chance to catch on.

In place where she had stood only a moment ago, a root of the World Tree was embedded in the ground. It was convulsing, trying to pull itself out in a series of repulsive contracting movements. If she had been just a fraction slower, she would have been impaled by it, likely dead.

Her blood ran cold.

 _Crack. Crrrackk. Snap. Crack crack snap crack –_

All around her, the battlefield was coming alive. Roots were sprouting from the earth, great coiling things that glistened sickly in the moonlight, looking almost sentient even though they couldn't possibly be – _oh no, don't let them be sentient!_ – constantly moving in an odd, impatient way, jerking back and forth, pausing and shuddering slightly as if pensive, uncertain. They appeared to be searching for something, like a blind underground creature would grope hungrily for its prey in the lightless abyss of a world.

Sakura stood motionless, hypnotized by the sight, green eyes wide open.

Was it a hand of a dead shinobi that moved, fingers spasming, curling into a fist and and unfurling again? And what was _that_ , out there, on the periphery of her vision, like a person trying to stand up straight, swaying, reaching out, only their limbs didn't look right –

 _Run! Run!_ shrieked a voice inside her head, echoing against the emptiness, the voice that belonged to that small part of her that never gave up and always tried to make sense of the world, her innermost self.

It meant she really had to run.

Sakura knew with a cold sort of clarity that she didn't stand a chance. Even if she weren't injured, there was no way she could fight the World Tree. She didn't even know where to begin fighting it, and there was no time to figure it out.

And something else was off, too. She was no expert on the Infinite Tsukuyomi, but her gut feeling was screaming out to her, telling her that something somewhere had gone horribly wrong on all possible levels.

If she wanted to survive, now was the time to make a dash for it.

Sakura concentrated briefly, directing chakra into her legs to boost her speed –

–and saw all of the roots stop in their chaotic searching movement and turn to her. They had no eyes to speak of but Sakura felt goosebumps on her skin. They were _looking at her_ , she could swear. What was worse, they were able to see her – sense her –

She jumped up, as high as she could using chakra to propel her further upwards, only a moment before they all shot toward her. She saw them clash together, winding around one another like snakes with a sound that was inexplicably dry and wet at the same time. She pushed out of her mind the image of being slowly strangled.

As she began to fall, she angled her body right and sent chakra into her hand. It glowed blue, reassuring.

Her fist smashed right into the center of it all, crushing, sending the roots reeling back as if they really were alive and hurt and surprised to be outsmarted.

Sakura touched down and leaped over the twitching mass before they could recover; landed on her feet like a cat and started running, praying her broken rib wouldn't puncture a lung.

She did not look back to see the dead battlefield boil over with shadows. She ran like she had never run before, ran as if the ground beneath her feet were on fire, ran as if her life depended on it – because this time, it did.

She didn't stop until she was far away, well into the Land of Fire, safe under the canopy of its whispering dark forests.

-/-

* * *

 _(to be continued)_

* * *

A/N: am I writing a horror story now or what?

...just kidding.


	4. The Architecture Of Symmetry

**Chapter 3**

 _(the architecture of symmetry)_

-/-

 _Eternal life doesn't begin at birth,  
it's the result of yielding to difficult rules.  
Even if the sun is but a reflection through day and night.  
And don't ring him up at his home. _

\- **Nurit Zarchi** , _In The Morning The Toothbrushes Stare At Me_

-/-

Izuna was no longer surprised. Or rather, he still was, but in a resigned, exasperated sort of way. He was sick and tired of being surprised. He longed to be back in a boring world where backstabbing clan members and unexpectedly strong opponents were the only things capable of catching one unawares. If by some miracle he found a way to return there, it couldn't happen too soon.

Until recently, if someone had asked Izuna how well he knew the Land of Fire, its layout, its climate, its population, its balance of power and everything else there was to know, he would have said without hesitation that it could keep no secrets from him. Now he would think twice before answering.

So far, only the big landmarks – woods, mountains and rivers – seemed to have remained in their rightful places. Perhaps they were just too heavy to move around, Izuna speculated dryly in the privacy of his head. The rest of the world had changed quite visibly.

He had stumbled upon roads he'd never seen before despite the fact that he'd been the one who was out and about all the time, traveling all over the country and abroad, while Madara, as the clan leader, had often stayed behind to take care of the clan.

Izuna had mostly kept to the forest for the safety purposes but occasionally he would pick a taller tree and climb higher to make sure he was still moving along one of the main roads. He believed he recognized it even though it had definitely grown much wider and more well-trodden.

There were road signs positioned helpfully in various places, pointing in one direction or another. Izuna had inspected them all very carefully and half of the names were completely foreign to him. He'd filed the information away for future use and pressed on.

After he was forced to flee from whatever it was that had tried to attack him on the edge of the old village, he had avoided going near human settlements, having decided that investigating the matter any further in the dead of the night might just result in a death worthy of a complete idiot, and that was certainly not how Izuna wanted to go down in history. But he'd passed by a number of inns which, he was quite sure, had no business existing either. They, too, must have sprung from the earth like mushrooms after rain while he was busy being dead.

He had entered the third one – or was it the fourth? – a two-storey square building made of pink and white bricks – only to emerge ten minutes later, features set in a frown and a tense look in his eyes. He wanted to at least nap for a couple of hours, and the place was completely devoid of people, but all his instincts opposed falling asleep in a house full of objects he was unable to name or guess the purpose of.

Instead, Izuna leaped up onto the roof of the inn, scanned the perimeter and, finding it sufficiently empty, settled down to get some rest. Five minutes later he gave up, went inside the house again and came back out carrying several blankets and a pillow. He spread them on the roof, lay down again, rested his head on the pillow and allowed himself to relax for the first time since the earlier incident.

He probably needed to think about what had happened but it seemed like such an arduous task. Odd, that. Izuna had always been rather proud of his sharp, rational mind and ability to apply logic to every situation, no matter how dire or risky or messed up it might be. He didn't believe in mysteries either. There were hard facts, and one simply needed to know them all – or at least enough of them – to see the whole picture. Every process had its mechanics, and secrets were nothing more than questions asked wrong or not at all and answers gone unheard. Even emotions and feelings had a logic of their own, obscure though it might seem to most people.

Izuna was not much of a dreamer and was aware of the fact. He liked to know and understand because the knowledge gave power to control things and change them as he desired. To be in control meant to win, and Izuna was fond of winning. He hadn't forgotten that he once used to have three other brothers. Bad planning and negligence were the reason he no longer had them. Izuna loved his clan and wanted to ensure its victory – over the Senju and over everyone else. He knew it would not be achieved by wishing the world were a different place. They had to become stronger, smarter, _better_ than their enemies. More cunning. He could do _that_. It made sense.

And therein lay the biggest difference between himself and his older brother. Madara was not content with letting the world be – he wanted to change it. He had been more open about this when they were kids, and then the experience and the loss had embittered them both and made them cynical, but Izuna knew his brother well. Although Madara had become ruthless and stopped talking about his childhood dreams altogether, part of him still longed for a better life and wished that acquiring more power would one day enable him to bring change. He was still a visionary and, Izuna suspected, would always remain one.

Secretly, Izuna had long since come to suspect that Madara was simply a much kinder man than he was.

Izuna could see how this dream ate at his brother and poisoned him and made him question his own decisions when he thought no one was looking. It happened more often than not after the Uchiha ran into another confrontation with the Senju, and Hashirama would turn up on the battlefield and blather away about uniting the two clans and building a _bright, peaceful future_ _together_.

On those days Izuna truly loathed Hashirama, and loathing someone was much more than hating them. Loathing was final and offered no compromise. Unlike rage and hatred, it was a cold, breathless feeling that drained colors from the world.

He had seen its mirror reflection in the eyes of Tobirama Senju who followed Hashirama like a sullen, reticent shadow – only it was directed at Madara and him.

To think that Tobirama had actually managed to kill him in the end. And Izuna had been so sure he had the man figured out...

It the deepest recesses of his mind, a treacherous little voice said, _but you_ do _know why you lost to Tobirama. You know why you ran away from danger in that village. Liar._

Snapping out of the reverie, Izuna sat up and ran a hand through his hair, feeling very much awake and irritated. He wanted to snap at someone, but no one was around and that left him alone with the truth of his failure in a rather confined space of his head, and right now he was really, _really_ not up to the task of facing it.

It was bad enough that the only way to reconcile all the things he had seen during the last twenty four hours was to admit that much more time had lapsed between the moment of his death and that of his awakening. Which also meant that his death had been the real deal.

Izuna tugged at his long ponytail, irked beyond measure.

The whole idiotic situation was getting to him. The sheer impossibility of it all, the tension, the absence of all he knew and understood, the disappearance of his clan, things were piling up on top of one another too fast and he could no longer even say where he was _going_.

Literally, too, he realized. Where was he going, really? Tomorrow when he set off again, where would he head for? Where would he look for his clan when he didn't even recognize much of the country? And if he never found them – what would he do, roam the forests for the rest of his life, feeding on rabbits?

 _People_ , Izuna thought, _I need people_.

He didn't care who he might meet any longer. Shinobi, peasants, merchants, samurai – it didn't matter. Anyone would do, provided they spoke in a language he understood. Hell, even if they communicated by whistling he would still like to meet them. He just wanted to make sure he was not the only living person in the world because what he had sensed in the village had not been human.

It had been powerful and restless and hungry – but not human.

He dozed off finally, one hand on the sword in case he needed it urgently, almost wishing he did. The last thing that flashed through his mind before he sank into tired slumber was: why was the moon so red?

He spent the night tossing and turning, and dreamed of a shimmering silver net falling from the sky, wrapping tightly around the world and squeezing it until all life was gone.

He woke up before the dawn, bone-weary and thirsty and ready to kill.

-/-

She had eaten the second soldier pill. Now, she only had one left.

It shouldn't be bothering her, she knew. Circumstances like hers were exactly what the pills were for, not to mention that as soon as she replenished her reserves she'd finally got to healing her ribs as well as other, minor injuries.

Now, however, the aftereffects of using the pills were beginning to kick in. A truly spectacular headache was clearly on its way, and she felt slightly dizzy, as if hit repeatedly on the head with a dusty pillow. There was no sense in pushing herself too hard now, and Sakura decided to stop and rest. She was heading for Konoha – where else? – but it was still quite far away and even if she hurried she wouldn't reach home for another five or so hours.

Making sure no one, or rather _nothing,_ was following her, Sakura chose a giant old tree with branches so numerous and so thick she could fall asleep among them without a worry of accidentally tumbling down and breaking her neck. The leaves would also hide her from prying eyes, in the unlikely case of someone actually showing up in the middle of the forest with murderous intent. Glancing around once more, she jumped, pulled herself up easily and hopped onto the thickest branch. Cautiously, she sat down with her back to the tree trunk and made herself comfortable, or at least as comfortable as the circumstances allowed.

She didn't want to attract the attention of the local fauna when there were no trustworthy companions to scare away bears and wolves and other predators that prowled the woods in search of a light snack, and she found herself strangely averse to camping under the clear sky. The latter made little sense, but the mere thought of falling asleep with the watchful red eye of the moon staring down on her made Sakura warm up to the idea of an encounter with an angry bear.

 _I guess that's it with the moon gazing for me_ , she thought wryly, _and no romantic moonlit strolls either. Good-bye, my love life. You will be missed._

Not that she had much of it to begin with. Hidden in the leaves, Sakura scowled, trying to remember the last time someone invited her on a date that was not in the Infinite Tsukuyomi, and was horrified to realize it'd been more than a year ago and the suitor in question had been Rock Lee.

Sakura pulled her knees to her chest and rested her head against them, eyes closed.

Poor sweet Lee, with his ugly bushy eyebrows and ridiculous green tracksuit and ridiculous embarrassing monologues about youth. Where was he now? Or rather, what was he dreaming about, back on the battlefield, imprisoned in the dreamworld of Madara's jutsu? She could just bet it would be something involving a lot of work out and competition, possibly with Might Guy. Or maybe he was dreaming about her? She was torn between awkward indignation (it was Lee of all people!) and smugness (hell yeah, _someone_ might just be having his perfect, eternal dream of a lifetime about _her_!).

Sasuke's brooding face swam across her mind, unbidden, and she forbade herself to think of him because it hurt so terribly much. She almost regretted waking up from the genjutsu. She missed _her_ Sasuke who had found it in him to admit his love for her, who had returned to her and made her happy. And Sarada too – she had never given much thought to children, but after she had Sarada, it became obvious how much joy it was to be a mother, to watch her daughter grow day by day, being proud of the first word she said and the first wobbling step she took –

Her breath hitched.

Sakura realized _what_ she was thinking, and a white-hot wave of shame and outrage washed over her, and she wanted to run away and hide from herself, so scandalized she was at her own weakness. The real Sasuke was out there, probably dying slowly from having his chakra drained from his body, helpless, and here _she_ was frolicking around in her fantasies when she should be thinking about the ways to save him.

She shook her head vigorously and hugged her knees. She didn't know exactly what had happened to him but until – unless – she knew otherwise, unless she was absolutely sure, she was going to fool herself into believing that he was still alive. She wondered if she would ever see him again, if she would ever see Naruto or Kakashi or any of her friends again. Her heart ached for them, and she felt hollow, as if part of her had gone missing and she didn't even know where to begin looking for it.

Easing herself into a more comfortable position, Sakura pondered the situation. She was unable to decide if she was indeed tremendously lucky or simply oblivious and heading straight for imminent demise. Back on the battlefield, there had been no time to analyze complicated matters, she had been too busy trying not to get her innards squeezed out through her ears. Now was the time to connect the dots and formulate a plan.

It had better be a good plan, too, because it didn't seem like the world would indulge her by offering multiple opportunities and waiting patiently until she got it right.

She opted for listing the bad things first so she could then pass on to the good ones and feel less depressed at the end.

So... what was bad about her situation? And no, _everything_ was not the right answer, she told herself firmly.

Point one. Apparently, everyone in the world was asleep or dead. Including all of her friends.

Point two. Revolting nightmarish things tried to kill her and she had no idea why or when they would want to have another go.

Point three. She had literally no knowledge on the Infinite Tsukuyomi and the World Tree. Great.

Point four. She couldn't ask anyone because Point one. Haha!

Sakura decided to stop at that. She was quite sure there was plenty more on the list, but already she felt badly in need of some optimism.

 _Focus on the silver lining_ , she told herself sternly.

Point one. She was alive.

Point two. There was no proof her friends were already dead. Aha! It contradicted the previous list a bit, but Sakura rather liked this sort of contradiction. It was the hopeful sort.

Point three. At least all the enemies and madmen and raving lunatics were also under the effect of the Infinite Tsukuyomi, so she wouldn't have to worry about them at all.

Point four. Except for Madara. _Oh wait, that doesn't belong here._

In the darkness, Sakura chewed on her lower lip pensively. She had seen no trace of Madara on the battlefield, so where was he? He was the caster, he had succeeded in implementing his crazy master plan, so what was the next step? Where did one go after ascending to godhood, acquiring divine superpower and putting everyone to sleep because one needed some peace and quiet? Was he taking a well-deserved rest or maybe he'd set off to see the world or something, now that no one was getting under his feet? The image of Madara traveling from one sleeping city to another, walking through deserted streets, watching the remnants of the human civilization sink slowly into decay as the years crawled by, formed in her mind.

And wasn't he immortal now? What on earth was he going to _do_ to pass the time? An eternity to fill up seemed like a truly horrific prospect.

Sakura tried to imagine what Madara might be doing and thinking or even if he was enjoying what he had wrought, but she failed miserably. He was just so... unfathomable. Well, apart from the crazy part where he believed he knew what was best for the world and had taken it upon himself to pass the final judgment.

She remembered his eyes, so empty of anything she might recognize and relate to and so full of bitterness and rage at everything he'd seen in the course of his long and tragic life. She felt sad for him, and sadder still for herself. It was a small, pathetic feeling that seemed to be lodged in her throat. She wished she could just cough it out.

 _More importantly_ , Sakura thought drowsily, letting her eyes fall shut again, _he doesn't know I'm alive. But if I ever feel lonely or just want to chat, I can seek him out. Hell yeah. That silver lining is so silver it's almost gold._

It was always good to have options. And maybe she could sneak in one or two questions about the Infinite Tsukuyomi, and he wouldn't even notice...

Exhausted from all the stress and injuries and having barely survived, Sakura was fast asleep.

-/-

As soon as Izuna stepped inside the gate and saw the street lined with houses, he knew it was a place where shinobi lived.

It didn't take a genius to guess when a brothel on his left proudly bore the legend "Feisty kunoichi" over the entrance. Well, he assumed it was a brothel – with a name like that, what else could it be? On the front door, there was even a rather bold drawing of a scantily clad young woman with a kunai in her hand and an expression of wild joy in her eyes. She did appear to be quite feisty.

Izuna spared a short moment to contemplate the matter, then shrugged and moved on. Strange that they were so open about it here but everything around him seemed surreal as of late, so why not this too.

There were other telltale signs, of course. He passed by a weapon shop and several stores that offered shinobi clothes (the fashion seemed to have changed quite a bit), turned right into a side-street only to find a dango stall that sported a stylized drawing of two spinning shuriken, and then he stopped noticing those things because more important thoughts began to pool inside his head.

The first one fluttered inside his skull for a while before he was able to formulate it properly.

 _Just how many shinobi live here?_

He hadn't had a chance to evaluate the size of the village when he approached it because the trees grew dense and tall in the forest outside the gate through which he had entered. But the gate itself was a big affair, wide and tall, and the road the led up to it was clearly used all the time. That suggested considerable population.

Regardless, there was an easy way to verify his guess.

Izuna crouched low and then shot upwards, landing on the roof of the nearest house, and then up again to stand on top of a taller building that would likely provide a better view.

Shielding his eyes from the sun with a hand, he took in the sight the unfolded before him.

The village seemed huge, at least by ninja standards. _Especially_ by ninja standards. It was not a hideout, nor a base, not even the main compound of some clan, he was sure of it. There could never be a clan that big and numerous, it was out of the question. Shinobi did try to have as many children as possible but they also tended to die so quickly that their overall number increased very slowly or not at all. Briefly, Izuna entertained the idea of the Uchiha clan growing so big in his absence that there were now several thousands of them so they needed a town all to themselves. His brain refused to as much as supply a mental image.

Which could only mean one thing. More than one clan lived here. A lot more than one clan.

Hundreds of multi-colored roofs were visible among the green foliage, peeking shyly through the gaps between the trees, or towering over them confidently. Sun gleamed on the window panes, and birds circled slowly in the clear sky. He could see streets and alleys and gardens, and a river off to the side, and a pond, and up ahead, across the valley–

 _What the hell is that?_

Izuna was hardly an impressible person. Shinobi who allowed themselves to be easily surprised or shocked usually had the life expectancy of a very small kitten dropped in the middle of the sea. The few unfortunate events – his death by the hand of Tobirama Senju being the most recent one – that had left him speechless he could count on the fingers of one hand _and_ still have fingers left.

But _this_.

Mind curiously blank, mouth slightly open, Izuna stared at the mountain overlooking the village, and the mountain stared right back at him.

Five giant faces were carved into the rock, four male, one female, stony features equally arrogant and unforgiving.

Three were unfamiliar. Izuna was sure he had never seen them before, nor did he care to. The other two he would know anywhere. They were the people he hated the most in the world.

The Senju.

 _Just what the hell is this place?_

Izuna didn't know how long he remained there, dumbstruck, allowing the enormous stone replicas of the Senju brothers look at him down their noses. He didn't notice a pair of fat pigeons land on the roof and start to coo.

He didn't register the soft sound of footsteps on the street below either.

He was startled – something that hadn't happened in a long, long while – when he heard a voice ring out, anxious and trembling and hopeful at the same time.

" _Sasuke!?"_

-/-

Sakura couldn't believe her eyes. She wanted to – so, so much! – but was afraid that the sound of her voice might break the spell and he would melt away as Sasuke had always been prone to do. And she didn't know what would become of her if he disappeared again.

She stared up at him as he stood on the roof, outlined against the sky, black hair ruffled by the wind, face hidden partly by the high collar of his shirt.

She didn't know how it was possible for him to be free from the genjutsu or what he was doing over there, what he was looking at so intently – none of it mattered, only the fact that he was alive and she was no longer alone in this world and in the impossible task of saving everyone.

Sakura felt the time grind to a halt and stand still – and finally breathed out. _"Sasuke!?"_

In the silence, her voice sounded thin and fragile, insignificant somehow, and she feared it would not reach him.

He spun around swiftly to look at her, one hand darting to the sword at his belt. His black eyes, unreadable as ever, met hers, held her gaze – and at once he was moving, leaping through the air with that characteristic effortless grace that came so naturally to him.

He touched down in front of her, several paces away. And whipped out the blade.

Sakura gaped at him in shock. "Wha–"

The protest died in her throat because now that he was close, she could see his face clearly and knew immediately that he wasn't Sasuke.

He was about the same height and had the same lithe build, and his hair was just as black and wild. Like Sasuke's, it was shorter on top – but at the back of his neck it was long and tied into a ponytail that had slid out of the collar as he jumped down from the roof. His face bore a striking resemblance to Sasuke's too, all sharp angles and lines, high cheekbones and elongated eyes. But it was also different in a number of almost imperceptible little details, and so the overall impression was different too. She couldn't quite put her finger on it but it was there.

 _Not Sasuke._

There was no time to sort out her feelings, but she could register disappointment and sadness she knew would later crash into her full-force.

And she felt dread too. _Not Sasuke, no. But an Uchiha for sure._ No way he could be anything else, not with those looks _._ She didn't have it in her to get excited at the sight of an unknown Uchiha shinobi. If her previous experience was anything to go by, his intentions would be less than noble and altruistic. Just how many more of them had actually survived the massacre and wandered about marinating in their thirst for vengeance?

His eyes narrowed slightly as if he had read her thoughts and was not amused. His mouth was set in a hard line, one corner slightly higher than the other. It was a small thing, but oddly, it gave him a fierce, angry look.

Well, that and the sword he was pointing at her.

Breaking out of her trance, Sakura jumped back to put more distance between them. She was half-afraid he would charge at her without further ado, but thankfully, it didn't happen. He even lowered the sword, sliding out of the battle stance with practiced ease.

But he didn't sheathe it.

Sakura eyed him nervously, unsure of what she should do. She had no idea how she might go about handling this situation. It had never occurred to her that she might need to handle it.

Not getting killed would probably be a good start.

He was still watching her from where he stood, a calculating look on his face. She had to do something _now_ to break the tension.

"Who are you?" she asked. It wasn't the most original opening line but it'd have to do.

It was freaking her out how much he resembled Sasuke. She needed a name to pin on him, his own, completely _different_ name, so she would stop being so confused. It was bad enough that he appeared to be ready to attack her. She knew she would not be able to fight him properly unless she could separate him from Sasuke inside her head.

"None of your business."

 _Oh sure._ How stupid of her to have expected anything else.

His voice was muffled slightly by the high collar of his shirt, but Sakura had enough experience dealing with Sasuke and _some_ of his nastier relatives to recognize the trademark Uchiha attitude. Somehow, they were able to combine together arrogant, derisive, impatient and suspicious and fit all those things into as few words as possible.

She gritted her teeth in exasperation.

"You're an Uchiha, aren't you?" she said, making a huge effort to keep the emotions from seeping into her tone.

Inexplicably, his eyes lit up. He looked smug all of a sudden. She was not complimenting him!

"I see. So you have met members of my clan before."

 _No kidding_ , she nearly said but didn't. At least two of them had wanted to destroy the world and all she held dear, another one had loved his younger brother so much he had resorted to tormenting him in order to help him grow stronger, and then said younger brother had tried to destroy her home and kill her friends and herself. And the fact that she had loved him desperately for years and was still finding it painful to even think of him was _not helping at all_.

"You could say that," she replied out loud, swallowing hard.

"Good. That makes it easier for me."

Before she could decipher his words, it was already too late. The tomoe in his eyes spun, black fading into red.

"I expect I don't have to explain about the Sharingan then."

-/-

* * *

 _(to be continued)_

* * *

A/N: ...and yes, they finally meet. I mean, it only took me three chapters. And a prologue. Which doesn't count.

And yup, the fact that Izuna and Sasuke looked alike is actually canon, right there in the manga. there's even that episode when Hashirama outright says it.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed! I love to know what you think.


	5. Sharpening The Knife

**Chapter 4.**

 _(sharpening the knife)_

-/-

 _She has always lived on this island,  
never been away.  
She has a red dress, worn only once  
with the price tag still on it,  
now at the bottom of a trunk.  
She has dreamed of cities.  
And city lights.  
But it's over. She will not share her dreams. _

**\- by Liu Xia (translated by Ming Di)**

-/-

Izuna was in high spirits.

Finally. After so much traipsing through the woods, getting attacked and becoming more and more frustrated with every passing moment, the fortune was on his side. The girl was truly a stroke of luck.

Taking care not to let the elation show on his face, Izuna examined her carefully through the Sharingan and decided that he liked what he saw.

She was younger than him, which was very good indeed, because age meant combat experience, and the less experience the potential enemy had, the better. Right now Izuna was not in the mood for challenges. The girl looked battered and worn out and, frankly speaking, like she had been dragged all the way to hell and back again. Face down. Her clothes were in tatters – old and torn in various places and dirty to the point where the original colors became unidentifiable. Her hair was matted and covered with filth, but underneath all that, it appeared to be _pink_ , which was a truly outrageous choice for a kunoichi who was supposed to be able to conceal herself and blend in with the surroundings, not scream for attention. In short, she was a complete mess, not likely to be very shrewd, and on her last legs, too. That was wonderful. Clearly she posed no threat at all.

In other words, she looked like someone who would tell him things when he asked, whether she liked it or not, and he required nothing else of her.

Still, it was never a good idea to be careless and underestimate the opponent. Careless shinobi didn't last long. Careless shinobi got killed by the Senju, an unfortunate fact he wasn't about forget, especially in a place where the inhabitants had carved giant portraits of Hashirama and Tobirama right into the mountain, apparently to admire them on a daily basis.

Izuna scowled darkly at his thoughts, and, predictably enough, the kunoichi in front of him tensed, seeing his expression, and fell into a defensive stance, expecting the attack.

...and simultaneously proved that despite her haggard appearance there was still some fight left in her.

The Sharingan enabled Izuna to see energy flows, and his eyes widened just a fraction when, to his immense surprise, the girl quickly and efficiently channeled some chakra into her arms and legs, no doubt to give herself an edge in a fight against him. On her dirty, grimy face, her eyes were very bright – and very, very determined.

Those were not the eyes of a loser backed into a corner.

She was not afraid of him. Nervous, yes. Exhausted, obviously. Reluctant to engage in combat. But not afraid.

Not that it mattered, of course. He would still make short work of her, but it gave him pause nevertheless.

How was she going to fight him? Maybe she had something up her sleeve, after all...

No weapons. Oh, he was sure, she would be able to produce some shuriken and maybe a kunai or two, all ninja could do that at least, but that aside, she had nothing. No sword, no scrolls, nothing more fanciful either. Her outfit would not allow her to hide anything worthy of his attention on her person, so that was it.

Ninjutsu then? What kind of ninjutsu might she use? There was no telling, of course, but he was able to evaluate her chakra reserves and they were really nothing to write home about. Izuna knew _he_ had plenty more chakra than most shinobi and even more than his clansmen with the obvious exception of Madara, but in his opinion, the little kunoichi was abominably lacking in that regard. She was below average. Whatever ninjutsu she might throw at him, she would run out of power long before he as much as broke a sweat.

His experience suggested that she was liable to use her clan's signature ninjutsu at the very least, and those could prove tricky. Izuna inspected her features and her clothes in hopes of finding the crest of her clan somewhere, but it was either where he couldn't see it – _like_ _where_ , he wondered idly – or way too covered by dirt. Well, as long as it was not Senju or Hagoromo, it had little chance of giving him much of a challenge. He'd just have to be more careful and keep that in mind.

Genjutsu didn't even matter as he was immune to it thanks to the Sharingan. If someone was going to cast any illusions, it would be him. She had admitted to having met Uchiha shinobi before and knew what it entailed, so unless she was incredibly stupid, she wouldn't try using any clever tricks on him.

That meant she would have to rely on taijutsu.

It made sense, he supposed. That was why she'd used what little chakra she had to give herself a boost. It would make her faster too, and in a battle, superior speed could sometimes mark the very fine line that separated life from death. If she managed to smash his skull, he could have all the chakra in the world at his disposal and a fat load of good it would do him. But she also had to understand that he would skewer her ten times over before she got close enough to deal a killing blow. That was one of the perks of having the Sharingan.

But still. She was prepared to fight him with taijutsu alone. Knowing he was an Uchiha. Knowing he was armed. Having seen his Sharingan. Was she really that competent a fighter?

His appraising gaze swept over her figure searching for clues that might explain her confidence. She noticed him looking and fidgeted, clearly uncomfortable.

Or perhaps she was simply suicidal.

Briefly, he considered the possibility of her having some unexpected and obscure bloodline limit, but it didn't seem likely. For one thing, ninja with a powerful bloodline limit usually behaved like they owned the world and she appeared confused instead.

She was determined to stand her ground – which was admirable in its own way – but underneath her bravado, her thoughts were in disarray, and the air of tired resignation hung over her.

And there was something else in her eyes too, hidden behind all the other feelings that flitted across her features as she looked back at him, like a hint of... disappointment? He would call it that if he weren't sure he had never met her before. It was as if she had been expecting something from him and he had failed to live up to those expectations. As if she resented him for that and wished to be elsewhere so she wouldn't have to look at him.

Well, Izuna thought without even a trace of compassion, she was not going anywhere until he was done with her. He had too many questions and too few people around to answer them.

-/-

Sakura watched the Sharingan bloom in his eyes and discovered that she was both sick of the Uchiha doujutsu and still fascinated by it, in a slightly morbid sort of way. It was a beautiful sight, breathtaking and haunting at the same time, and yet part of her wished it had never been born into the world. It twisted and corrupted those who wielded it.

She wondered if he would attempt to cast genjutsu on her – or had he done so already? What a way to go, she thought with dark amusement, to break free from Madara's Tsukuyomi, the greatest and the most terrible genjutsu of all times, only to fall victim to some low-level illusion before she had a chance to save a single soul. Future textbooks would feature her as a stellar example of how not to do things.

Except if she got killed here there would be no future textbooks and no one to read them and laugh at her clumsiness, and no future at all, for anyone.

 _No, I have to survive. For everyone's sake._

Sakura stuck out her chin, defiant to the bitter end. It was probably too late to avoid looking into his eyes, but he didn't have the Mangekyo Sharingan, and maybe she would still be able to dispel the basic jutsu. She'd had some special training, even if it had been with the ordinary illusions. It was worth a shot anyway.

"This place – do you live here?"

His abrupt question startled her out of her suicidal musings. It didn't help that he sounded a lot like Sasuke though – clipped and businesslike; a non-nonsense voice that brooked no argument.

But hey, he was actually talking to her. To her dismay, Sakura discovered that the possibility of _not_ fighting the unknown Uchiha hadn't even occurred to her. As soon as she realized he was not Sasuke, she had switched to operating on the assumption that it was inevitable. Granted, he had greatly contributed to the fact by drawing the sword and activating his doujutsu, but maybe there was still a chance to talk him out of it.

And he might have useful information. In any case, she had to find out who he was and why he had come to Konoha, but maybe there were other people like him and herself, who had managed to wake up?

"Yes." She searched his face for any signs that might tip her off to his intentions, but her eyes were drawn to the Sharingan and it was hard to concentrate. "It's my home."

"Tell me about it."

Sakura blinked. _Tell him about it?_ "What do you mean?"

An Uchiha shinobi who didn't know about Konoha? Or was he referring to something in particular? There were many secrets in Konoha, of course, some buried deep in the dusty archives, others in the heads of various shinobi, and Sakura wasn't arrogant enough to assume she knew even half of what there was to know. But even if she did, she wouldn't be telling him. For all she knew, he might be Madara's ally, like Obito used to be.

A shiver ran down her spine as she considered it. What if he was as insane and bent on destruction as those other two?

"Just answer." He sounded impatient. "What do you call this place?"

"Konoha," she said slowly, peering at him. "The Leaf village." What was he playing at?

"And it's a ninja village, isn't it?"

" _Yes._ " He wasn't making any sense. Unless, of course, he wanted to confuse her out of her last wits, in which case it was a great plan.

Sakura felt the urge to punch him in the face, even if it was a face that looked like Sasuke's.

"Is this a joke?" she asked bluntly, no longer trying to rein in the irritation. "Because if it is, it's not funny."

His expression gave nothing away. "Do I look like I'm in the mood to joke around with you? Continue."

"How about you tell me who you are first!" she shot back, incredulous. "Do you seriously expect me to disclose information about my village to a total stranger? With everything that's been going on lately? You look very suspicious, you know."

He appeared vaguely bemused. "How is it suspicious of me to ask for the name of your village?"

"Because you're from the Uchiha clan?" She glared at him. "And because you still have your doujutsu activated? _And_ because you still haven't put away that sword? Will you give me your name at least?"

He tilted his head to the side and regarded her with the air of an entomologist who had stumbled upon a curious bug. The blade in his hand gleamed dully. His Sharingan swirled, hypnotizing her.

"No," he said.

 _If you are alone and your enemy has the Sharingan, escape_ , said the voice of the old Chiyo in the back of her mind.

It was probably the most sensible thing to do, Sakura inwardly agreed as she stubbornly refused to look away and held his gaze.

She was quite confident in her ability to give him a nasty surprise if he attacked – no one would ever expect her to have the monstrous strength she had – but the Sharingan would allow him to dodge easily and read her moves, so that diminished her chances rather drastically. Taijutsu and close combat were her specialty, but she had to get very close to him in order to deal significant damage, and he had a sword he obviously knew how to use, which gave him a longer range. Neither did she think he would abstain from using ninjutsu on her – likely he would start by trying to barbecue her in the proper Uchiha fashion. If her chakra-sensing abilities hadn't gone down the drain yet, he would easily outlast her even on her best day. Her chakra control was very good and very precise – she felt she had every right to be proud of her mastery of it – but unless he was sloppy, the sheer amount of power he had would ensure his victory. It was really distressing and unfair, but every Uchiha she encountered seemed to possess chakra reserves vast enough to supply a small army.

And of course he had full access to all sorts of Sharingan tricks. _Yes, totally unfair._

"What clan are _you_ from?"

Now, _that_ was an unexpected question. Or was he attempting to switch topic?

She shook her head, bewildered. "Me? I'm not from a clan. I'm from a civilian family." When was the last time someone had asked her that? She couldn't even recall.

"I see." The barely detectable shadow that passed over his features showed clearly what he thought about clanless shinobi.

Sakura felt an absurd onslaught of indignation. Who did he think he was, coming to her home and acting like a snob! True, it was nothing new, and the descendants of important clans all shared this arrogant trait to some extent. It was strong, the old blood of those who had shaped the history of the land, and it shone through even if they tried to hide it. It was in the way they moved, like the world owed them, in their bearing, and in the cadence of their voices. She had seen it in Sasuke, of course, and in all the Hyuuga shinobi – even Hinata, the most kind-hearted of them, would sometimes appear a little aloof and otherworldly, gazing at those around her as if from the outside, a strange shimmer in her translucent Byakugan eyes. Why, even _Ino_ had her little holier-than-thou moments, and Yamanaka clan wasn't really all that grand and glorious compared to the others.

Sakura had never held a grudge against her friends for that attitude – it was inbuilt in them, a part of who they were, and it was enough that she saw the effort they made to not offend her. And if they slipped sometimes, it didn't matter, because their friendship was far greater than any prejudice.

But this guy was a different story. He was just a stranger. And he was an insufferable jerk, she could see that much already.

"A lot of shinobi are not from any clan and that doesn't mean a thing!" she snapped angrily. "It's the hard work that matters, and the bonds we share! And I don't know where you're getting off pretending you don't know about Konoha, but I'm not buying it! It's the lamest lie I've ever heard, and I've heard a lot!" Something flickered in his eyes at these words – surprise? – but Sakura was too too busy fuming. "An Uchiha who doesn't know his own village – do you take me for an idiot?"

A short silence followed. The look on his face was incomprehensible. She braced herself for any reaction, including a Sharingan attack.

And then – just like Sasuke – he brushed aside her outrage as if it weren't there.

"How many clans live here?" he asked calmly, completely ignoring both her outburst _and_ her question.

She sneered, hating him. "Too many to remember."

He paused, considering, then shrugged. "I thought so. This place is too big. Which clan runs this village then?"

Was he for real? Any child over the age of five born in a ninja family knew the basic facts about how a village functioned. Sakura felt close to punching a very big hole in the ground, if only to let off some steam. His secret plan was obviously meant to infuriate her rather than confuse, and it was working splendidly. Maybe it would be better to fight him, after all, Uchiha or not. She could eat the last pill.

"Hokage is the head of the village," she bit out finally. "Not a clan."

"Hokage." He said the word in a flat tone that could have meant anything or nothing. "Interesting. But enough of that," his face darkened as if all lights had gone out inside of him. "How long has your village been allied with the Senju?"

Her jaw dropped. _"What?"_

-/-

There were questions in the world that had no answers.

For as a long as Izuna could remember, he had wanted to know why some people went to bed only to sleep like a senseless log until late in the morning while others ended up dreaming up phantom quasi-realities where everything was backwards as soon as their heads touched the pillow. He had discovered he belonged to the latter type when he was about ten years old, which had given him a head start on pondering the riddle. Unfortunately, though, thinking about this was as aggravating as falling into a bottomless pit – you thought you were going somewhere, even if it was down, and then it dawned on you that you were actually stuck in the same place forever and the movement was just an illusion.

Later in life, after awakening the Mangekyo Sharingan, Izuna had finally managed to formulate his feelings – what he saw in his dreams at night felt as if he were casting Tsukuyomi on himself. Some dreams felt completely detached from reality, and others resembled his actual life until suddenly they no longer did, and that was ten times worse. There were also dreams that repeated time and again, which shouldn't have been half bad except for some reason it didn't help that he knew how things ended. It was still creepy and frustrating, and he would have rather preferred to sleep peacefully like all normal people.

Even more frustrating had been his brother's reaction.

"Just goes to show which of us has a truly sick mind," Madara had commented with what Izuna had even then deemed to be a misplaced optimism. "And imagine that people think _you'_ re the nice one." He had laughed at that and added. "Make sure you memorize some of the more terrible ones, will you? Inflict them on our enemies next time we fight – might as well make their life a living hell while you're at it."

 _Of all times_ , Izuna thought, _why did I remember that conversation now?_

And then, as he watched the strange kunoichi get all worked up over nothing, he knew the reason. His awakening in the cellar of the abandoned Uchiha compound, the trek through the mysteriously changed country, the unnatural absence of people and, of course, the poor excuse for a dialogue he was currently having with the girl – it all put him in mind of one of the least favorite dreams of his. Namely, the one where he spent the whole time hunting down an important bit of information and it was never where he looked, and the people he met never told him what he wanted to know and only sent him somewhere else, and the ordeal just dragged on and on indefinitely, but since it was a dream, he couldn't just give up and go home.

Yes, it was pretty much the same. Only worse, because now it was all real. The kunoichi was proving to be completely useless. For some reason, she seemed to find every question he asked weird and had accused him of lying and pretending he didn't already know the answers.

What was so hard about answering his questions anyway, Izuna thought with vexation. He hadn't even got to the difficult ones yet and already she looked near apoplectic. Her face was red under all the grime.

"The Senju," he repeated out loud. "What's the connection between them and your... Konoha?"

She looked ready to explode for a moment, and he tensed, ready to spring into action. But clearly, she thought better of it.

She drew a deep breath. "The fact that the First and the Second Hokage were Senju," she replied, obviously making an effort to stay calm, and then added as if on an afterthought, "oh, and the Fifth too, actually."

Her gaze shifted briefly, going over his shoulder and into the distance. A realization struck Izuna.

"Those... sculptures," he said slowly, "are _they_ Hokage?"

She frowned at him. "I really wish I knew why you want to play dumb, but yes, they are. Who else did you think they were?" she asked snidely.

He decided to let it slide in favor of clarifying more important issues. "Hashirama and Tobirama Senju both command the shinobi of your village?" That was something he would need to relay to Madara and the rest of the clan. When he found them.

The girl was giving him a very strange look.

"What?" he snapped impatiently.

"No, nothing," she continued to stare, unblinking, "I mean yes, they used to ...well, _command_ the shinobi here, but that was back when they were alive, you know. A hundred years ago."

Izuna felt his mind go blank.

She was lying. Or she didn't know what she was saying. Or she had said something else entirely and he had misheard. Or she was provoking him. He only needed to think – to really _think_ – and he would know which one it was, he would understand.

The Senju brothers couldn't be dead. They had been quite robust when he got himself killed, and that had been only a while ago –

Except he didn't really know when it had been, did he? Same as he didn't know why he was alive and why he had his Sharingan back. And where his clan had evaporated to.

He had done his best to shut down that line of thinking because it led into places he had no desire to visit. But as it turned out, whatever he did, he wound up facing the same dilemma – either he believed he had been dead for who knew how long, and then some things made sense at least, or he didn't believe it –

And then what?

No, he didn't believe it. It couldn't be. What died remained dead and then it was forgotten. The dead didn't come back. If he had died, no power could have brought him back. He was missing something important.

Another idea occurred to him and chilled his blood a little.

 _What if it's a trap?_

This Konoha was a ninja settlement, unorthodox though it might seem, and the fact that so far he hadn't seen a single ninja didn't necessarily mean it was deserted. If anything, it was actually more suspicious. Why would they leave behind a village that looked like a fairytale place where well-behaved shinobi went after they died? It really did look like something Hashirama Senju might come up with.

And then _she_ had turned up, and he hadn't even noticed her. She'd managed to get close somehow. She was better that he had thought she was.

Maybe she was just a bait. Maybe they already had him surrounded – they would want to catch him alive, wouldn't they? They could be concealing their presence, after all. His Sharingan would not detect them unless they used chakra. The kunoichi was expecting reinforcements, was what she was doing. That was why she was acting so unreasonably bold. She felt safe.

They had lured him into a trap.

Izuna felt rage stir inside his chest, a cold flame that gave no warmth. That was not how his life was going to end, not _again_. Not in a place that apparently had a Senju cult.

She thought she was going to make it out alive, didn't she?

A mocking smile spread across his face.

It gave him dark satisfaction to see her eyes widen as she realized what was about to happen. She flinched back instinctively, panicking.

Too late. He inhaled deeply.

And breathed fire.

-/-

Sakura had seen Fire Style jutsu on numerous occasions, and she remembered that it was also something of a trademark move for the Uchiha. Unless her memory was going, it was the ninjutsu Sasuke had had to learn to prove he was worthy of his father's attention. A more recent recollection was that of the reanimated Madara producing an enormous torrent of flames to cover the whole plain in the very beginning of the battle. Apparently for the Uchiha, setting the opponent on fire was a way of saying hello.

She had been expecting it, even if she had also been hoping he would not attack her at all. Those hopes had been blown away quickly enough when she saw his lips twist in a smirk and felt his chakra flare up.

She threw herself out of harm's way, kicked off of the wall of the house and over the flames–

–only to see him right in front of her as he too had leaped up, anticipating the direction she would chose, no doubt using the Sharingan. His eyes were fixed on her, merciless. She saw him swing the sword in a wide arch and threw out an arm, blocking the blade with a kunai. The screeching sound of metal on metal ripped through the air and the force sent her flying backwards – _just how strong was that strike?_ – and she barely made it in time to grab on to the railing of a balcony to avoid falling down into the fire that still flooded the street.

She saw him land safely on his feet back where he had stood before he cast the jutsu. His expression was tight.

He had thought to finish her off in one strike, the bastard, Sakura realized belatedly. Well, she had managed to surprise him. _Congratulations, me._

Sakura hauled herself up with one arm, vaulted over the railing, smashed open the balcony door and dived into the apartment. If he caught up with her here, she would have an advantage of fighting at close quarters.

 _What the hell did just happen?_ part of her brain wheezed indignantly as she scanned the room frantically in search of something – anything – she might use in a fight. _We were talking just fine and then he goes ballistic!_

Not bothering to be economic any longer, Sakura took out the last soldier pill and shoved it into her mouth. At the same time, she spotted a kunai with an explosive tag and half a dozen shuriken lying on the desk on top of an assortment of books and papers. She snatched them up quickly and dashed into the corridor.

If she got to survive and save the world, she would seek out the owner of the apartment and express her gratitude personally, but for now it didn't matter.

Sakura paused in front of the door, fingers barely touching the doorknob as she listened intently.

Silence. Where was he? Had he decided not to follow her into the house? Why? Deduced she was good at taijutsu? She bit on her lip hard enough to draw blood and waited, thinking, letting the pill fill her up with the much needed chakra.

She couldn't stay inside – the more she dragged this out, the more time he had to prepare an ambush. Or he could simply set fire to the whole building and smoke her out. That wouldn't do.

No, she had to get outside, find him and engage him in combat. He was fast and strong, and that katana was one wicked thing. Against the Uchiha ninjutsu she stood no chance.

Sakura stifled a hysterical laugh. _I feel like I'm fighting Sasuke._

She pursed her lips resolutely and rolled her shoulders. There was no choice, really. She would have to get very close to him very fast – close enough that he wouldn't be able to dice her up due to the lack of space. If she succeeded, one chakra-powered punch through the ribcage should take care of him.

Turning the doorknob carefully, she pushed the door open.

The stairs leading down to the ground floor were empty. She lifted her head and peered up into the twilight of the upper floor. Nothing. Which way should she go? What would _he_ expect?

Quick. No time to hesitate.

She ran up the stairs all the to the third floor where the door that led out onto the roof was situated. Her footsteps echoed loudly. Not pausing even for a moment, Sakura flung the kunai with the explosive tag, embedding it into the wall near the door, and dashed down the way she had come as fast as she could, taking several steps at a time.

The explosion went off just as she reached the ground floor. The smoke rolled down the stairs, chasing her but never catching up. The road was clear, her enemy was nowhere in sight. Did it mean she had managed to pull it off? Had he gone to check out the roof?

 _Yes! We did it!_ her inner self rejoiced as she reached for the front door. _It worked!_ _Out we go!_

Sakura felt the movement rather than saw it – and her heart stopped.

 _No. No._

The time seemed to slow down to a crawl as she watched herself, as if from outside her own body. She whirled around and saw him drop down from the ceiling, graceful and cat-like, long ponytail sliding out of the high collar in the same way it had done before, in the street, face frozen in concentration.

She swung her arm just as he landed in front of her, his blade going for her neck, and she knew she was faster this time, and knew that he knew it too – _I win_ , she thought fuzzily, _I'm not going to die!_ – and let the chakra flow into her fist. She would get him this time.

His Sharingan spun, the kaleidoscope of black on red.

 _Damn. I forgot._

Her fist froze, hovering mere inches away from his chest. Her arm trembled. She couldn't move.

The Mangekyo Sharingan in his eyes was the only thing she could see in the semi-darkness. As if in a daze, she thought it was very different from Sasuke's. Their eyes were the same shape – but the form of the Mangekyo was nothing alike.

The steel against her neck felt cool, almost reassuring. It was real and steady in the wavering, floating world that threatened to swallow her whole.

"Now," he said, and his voice seemed to reach inside her skull, and wrap around her heart, and tug, and _pull_ , and there was no escape from him because he was everywhere. "Tell me the truth. What is the name of the village?"

"Konoha."

"What's your name?"

"Sakura Haruno."

"Are you alone here?"

"Yes."

"Are you telling the truth?"

"Yes."

A pause, so impossibly long that it stretched away into eternity. His presence lay heavy upon the world, dark and implacable like an ocean at night, and she was being suffocated by the tide as it dragged her further and further away from the shore.

"What is the name of the First Hokage of your village?"

"Hashirama Senju."

"Is he alive?"

"No."

"When did he die?"

"A hundred years ago."

She felt his silence flood her from inside, and she wanted to scream, and collapse where she stood, and beg him to stop, because it was terrible and painful even though there was no pain. It felt like she was being violated slowly and inexorably, not belonging to herself anymore, a prisoner inside her own body and mind.

"Do you know who I am?"

"No."

She would weep if she could, but he did not wish for her to do so, and she could not move a muscle unless he willed her.

"Who is Sasuke?"

"The last survivor of the Uchiha clan. The man I love. You look just like him."

Her blood seemed to have turned into ice. The Mangekyo Sharingan swirled again, holding her captive, and she felt the life being drained away, as if a void had opened up inside her and her very essence were folding in on itself –

And then it was over.

Whatever power had been holding her in place receded. The blade moved away from her neck. Colors rushed back into the world.

She sank down to the floor, to her knees, shaking violently, clutching her hands to her chest, fingers clawing at her heart, and she was coughing – or was she crying? She didn't know, and on the inside she was empty and hollow, robbed of something she hadn't even known was there, only now it was gone and she was left to trudge through the wasteland alone and lost, calling to the winds.

Sakura didn't know how much time had passed before she was able to get a hold of herself again, and the ability to think returned.

The world was still in place. It had not fallen to pieces or disintegrated or anything. He body seemed to be all there too. Her blood roared and pounded in her ears, and she still shook slightly, and all of her chakra was gone – _again_ – but there seemed to be no permanent damage. _Strange._

She raised her head, blinking away the tears and looked around. The world vacillated for a moment, then swam into focus. She was still on her knees on the dirty floor near the door she had never managed to open. She wondered if her legs were ready to support her weight and decided that it wouldn't hurt to stay put a bit longer.

No more than three or four paces away from her stood the man she had fought and failed to kill. His posture was relaxed. He had finally sheathed the sword and thrust it through his belt. His eyes were black and fathomless.

He fixed her with a long, unreadable stare.

And said. "I'm called Izuna Uchiha."

-/-

* * *

 _(to be contnued)_

* * *

A/N: ahhh the drama. You didn't really expect them to just sit down and chat, right?

Anyway, I'm still rather surprised myself that I picked Izuna to write this story, because really, there was no reason whatsoever for me to do so. But the thing is, I came up with the plot and really wanted to make it happen. Sakura was an easy choice, I love writing her, but neither Sasuke (who I was asked to write about) nor Madara (who is my favorite Uchiha of all times, yes) would fit in, and Izuna suddenly did and I'm having lots of fun writing him now.

So now we're getting an IzuSaku the size of, I don't know, War and Peace?

...only joking. But it's going to be a pretty long (and a bit creepy) one. The fact that yes, it's pretty much non-existant makes it even better.

Thank you guys for your wonderful reviews, please let me know what you think, cause I love it!


	6. A Future Without A Perhaps

**Chapter 5**

 _(a future without a perhaps)_

-/-

 _I keep thinking  
of the crude unripeness of things,  
of the meaning of So What.  
It would be good  
If the flighty cherry buds  
and the cool of receding waves  
were taken away from me. _

– **Gabriel Preil,** _Beyond Sleep And Waking_

-/-

 _Izuna Uchiha?..._

As the initial pain and terror faded, Sakura found herself drifting off on gentle winds of exhaustion. She was doing it involuntarily, quite against her better judgment, but the aftereffects of being subjected to a Mangekyo Sharingan justu were quickly winning against her desire to stay coherent.

The medic in her explained – in Tsunade's rather brusque tone – that it was a perfectly normal reaction for a body that had just been put through so much distress. The sensible and alert part of her brain was desperately trying to tell her something but nothing was getting through the thick wool that seemed to be wrapped around her. All sounds were slightly muffled, and the outlines of the world before her eyes blurred a little. Every thought might easily weigh a ton and cost her ten years of life.

What a funny feeling. A bit like being drunk, only without any of the good stuff that happened when one drank. But with an extra helping of disorientation instead. Ohh...

Still hovering in that empty faraway place that was neither reality nor illusion, Sakura willed the wheels and cogs in her head into motion, painstakingly slow. She could practically hear them groan and grind against each other in agony.

 _Think. Need to think. Important. Izuna Uchiha..._

How she wanted to just slump forward and sprawl on that wonderful, comfortable floor that was only slightly dirty. She would sleep like a baby and when she awoke, all her problems would be someone else's problems. Why not? It might happen. Theoretically, at least.

Yes, she was going to slee–

"Are you going to sit there all day, kunoichi? Get up."

 _Huh?_

Sakura blinked. Right. It was him. Izuna Uchiha. That was his name _(the name! think of the name!)_. And there _he_ was, gazing down on her with an air of disbelief, fading in and out of focus. What did he want from her? Hadn't he won already? She couldn't fight any longer, and for some reason he had refrained from loping her head off, so why couldn't he just leave her alone?

"This is pathetic." His voice cut mercilessly through the invisible woolen blanket that covered her ears. "Pick yourself up off the floor and get outside. We have a lot of talking to do."

Making an inhuman effort, Sakura kicked her consciousness back into the real world and shot him a glare. "I'd like to see _you_ being all peachy after someone used Tsukuyomi on you!"

There was pity in his eyes. An arrogant sort of pity. It made her want to gag.

"That," he said, "was no Tsukuyomi."

"It wasn't?" Sakura digested the information. "Just how many more horrible genjutsu can you cast with your Sharingan?"

She wished he would stop giving her that look. It was exactly like Sasuke used to treat her when they were little. Like she had been useless and naive and always getting in his way. Which was indeed the case – she really had been all those things. But everything had changed since then, and she had grown so much and was no longer useless. She didn't want to revisit those times.

"It only proves that you never really experienced Tsukuyomi." His voice had a flat, indifferent quality to it. "What I did to you was my normal mind control."

 _Wow_ , thought Sakura because she was momentarily lost for words. _Ju_ _st wow._

It didn't occur to her to doubt him though. The memory of having him in her head was way too fresh. She preferred not to dwell on the particularities of what had transpired, but it had been vile and sick on some primal level where feelings refused to be bottled up in words and only howled and screeched at the back door of her mind. She hoped she could forget all about it eventually. The sooner the better.

And to think that apparently he could do worse.

"In that case," she said finally," I would really hate to see your Tsukuyomi."

"That's the spirit." He sounded distracted, as if he were mulling over something infinitely more interesting than she could ever hope to become. "Glad to see you're not as stupid as you look, kunoichi."

It stung. Sakura wasn't sure why, and was, in fact, surprised to find that it did, but she did feel offended. Which was a disquieting thought – why would she be offended by his words? It was so silly of her. He had nearly killed her, that was much more important. _That_ was a truly valid reason to be insulted and frustrated and generally hate his guts. But as she inspected her own feelings, she realized that she wasn't half as angry as she was supposed to be.

 _It must be his face,_ she admonished herself tiredly. _He looks so much like Sasuke. Those eyes... But he's not Sasuke. He's just some other Uchiha named Izuna. I need to remember this._

"Sakura," she told him pointedly, and he raised an eyebrow. "My name. I told you when you were... _doing that thing_ to me. You could use it, you know."

Goodness, why was it so important to her? He brain must still be addled, that was the only explanation. As if it mattered what he called her.

"Will that make you move faster?"

"Maybe." She glared up at him, expecting disparaging comments.

To her surprise, he simply shrugged. "Sakura it is then." He turned on his heel and strolled toward the door to the street, pushing it open lightly. "I'll wait for you outside. Make sure you don't fall asleep."

"If I do, you'll wake me up."

He cast her an ironic glance. "I will. But you won't like it."

Sakura scowled. He was probably right. It irked her that he enjoyed it so much.

He waited a moment in case she had anything to say, then continued matter-of-factly. "I do intend to have my questions answered, Sakura. I'll make you talk one way or another. It's your choice how we go about it. I suggest you don't make it difficult. Do I need to tell you why any attempts to escape will be futile?"

 _That bastard._ "You don't," Sakura replied through clenched teeth.

He nodded and exited the house, ponytail swishing with his every move. He added nothing else and left the door open.

The sunlight broke into the dark hall and cast a bright golden square on the floor. Tiny motes of dust danced in the air. Outside, birds were having a very loud conversation that closely resembled a scandal.

Sakura allowed herself a deep sigh of relief. She was alone – for a short while at least – and that was what she needed to gather her wits and decide on the course of action. What should she do?

She was physically uninjured, but completely depleted and out of soldier pills. She'd have to wait for her chakra to be replenished naturally. That meant she couldn't run from from him or fight him. If she was honest with herself though, she probably wouldn't be able to go far even if she had chakra. He was too strong, and the Mangekyo Sharingan would render all her efforts fruitless. She believed she'd had her fair share of it for the rest of her life.

Then again, why run at all? He had said he wanted information, which meant talking, and wasn't it what she had wanted in the first place? Granted, as high and mighty as he was, he probably thought he'd do all the asking, but Sakura was pretty confident she could make him spill the beans too. And she felt like he had a quite a story to tell. The questions he had asked her were outright weird. She doubted that he had gone and used his awful mind control jutsu on her just for fun, not to mention that he hadn't looked joyful at all. He had been deadly serious.

So she had to assume he really didn't know about a thing about Konoha. And he seemed obsessed with the Senju clan, except not in a good way. The fact that he had talked about the First Hokage as if the man were still alive was especially mind-boggling.

Still, beggars couldn't be choosers. She would have to take her chances with him and hope like hell there was some reason for him to act like he did.

Where had she heard his name mentioned before, though? The memory was right there, close to the surface, like a fish nearly jumping out of the water. She could see it out of a corner of her eye, its silvery gleam and its shape, but when she turned to look closer, it was gone in an instant. If only she could just concentrate.

Izuna Uchiha. It was not just some name. It was an important name. She knew it.

Sakura raked her brain desperately, trying to dig through the layers of useless recollections and failing. It would probably come back to her on its own accord, only later, when she wasn't trying so hard.

 _Alright. I give up_ , she told sternly to her inner self that was trying to hurl obscenities at her. _If I dawdle here any longer, he'll come back for me with his evil eyes._

Shaking her head, Sakura began to gingerly lift herself from the floor. Her vision blurred again, then returned to its normal sharpness. Her legs felt a little weak, and she was a bit unsteady, but she supposed it was fine since she was hardly going anywhere.

She brushed off the dirt from her clothes as best she could and asked herself – not for the first time – if this Izuna Uchiha was perhaps insane. He didn't seem to be, but if by any chance he was, it would pit her against a Sharingan-wielding madman, all alone, with no one to help her if things went to the dogs. Great. Just what she needed. As if Madara with his Infinite Tsukuyomi hadn't been enough.

She froze.

 _Madara. But of course. Stupid. Stupid. I should have thought of that immediately!_

And from beneath the muddy waters of her memory, voices of the past rose and spoke to her.

 _Madara had a younger brother named Izuna who he loved more than anything else in the world,_ murmured the reanimated First Hokage regretfully.

 _Hashirama told me I looked just like Madara's brother Izuna_ , said Sasuke's distant voice from the battlefield before the Tsukuyomi was cast. _He seemed to think it would help me to convince Madara to stop but I guess it didn't work out._

 _Madara changed after Izuna's death_. Was that the First again? She couldn't remember...

 _Things would have turned out different if Izuna hadn't died._

Sakura stared at the open door, mouth agape. Suddenly, the strange things he had said didn't appear so strange anymore, and the weird questions began to make a horrible, completely improbable sort of sense.

She made herself stop and count to ten, very slowly, then went over her crazy idea again. It still seemed logical. But that meant –

 _No way!_

-/-

The kunoichi was taking her sweet time but Izuna didn't mind.

She wasn't going to slip away from him with all her chakra gone, and while he had told her the truth about the jutsu he'd used on her not being Tsukuyomi, he knew that the difference was minuscule – for her. She was likely shaken to the core and needed to recover. Besides, what would be the point of asking her anything if she couldn't string two words together.

That was fine. He needed time too, even if he wasn't going to let _her_ know.

Izuna surveyed the surroundings in search of something to sit on while he waited and found nothing suitable in sight because that was the street he'd set on fire earlier on. The ground was scorched, the grass burnt, the walls of the houses blackened by the flames. Several big trees that lined the street resembled skeletons, gaunt and eerie, remaining branches reaching out towards the clear blue sky that knew nothing of the fiery hell he had created below.

That was one solid jutsu he'd executed here, Izuna mused as he appreciated his handiwork. By all means not his best one, but definitely nothing to be ashamed of. A very decent example of the Great Fireball jutsu, even if he said so himself.

Slowly, he took several more steps forward to stand in the center of the street, in the stream of sunlight that illuminated the ruined landscape. It made the soot on the walls stand out even more, blacker than normal black, unnatural and ugly.

The air was warm, honey-like, and full of birdsong.

He felt so out of place, detached from the world around him and unneeded in it.

Izuna let his eyes fall shut, effectively blocking out the view, and tried to ignore the throbbing headache that was making itself comfortable somewhere in his right temple. It was still in its early stages, but he knew how things would go from here. In an hour he would feel like someone had stuck a long, sharp needle in the side of his head, giving it an occasional experimental twist.

The fact that precisely at that time he would be interrogating the pink-haired kunoichi did nothing to improve his mood.

He hadn't planned to use the Mangekyo Sharingan.

To his shame, Izuna realized that a tiny but stubborn part of him had actually been harboring a rather ridiculous hope that this time around things would be different and using the Mangekyo Sharingan would incur no consequences. It was a completely unreasonable and laughable notion, but now that the life had disproved that hope, he felt betrayed and angry at himself for feeling betrayed, which was absurd and counterproductive.

He wished he knew who was to blame so he would be able to direct his rage at them.

Well, it was a small blessing that he had managed to stop himself at the last moment and stick to the simple mind control instead of Tsukuyomi or else he would have been dizzy, bleeding from his right eye and starting down the well-trodden path toward blindness both he and Madara had been walking for the last ten years or so. It was a journey he had no desire to repeat.

And the kunoichi would be dead. She really didn't have it in her to survive his Tsukuyomi.

 _Maybe,_ whispered the little voice inside his head, _just maybe I would have been better off with her dead. And now she will tell me everything and I bet I'm not going to like any of it. It's still not too late to kill her._

Izuna squashed the treacherous voice mercilessly. It was too late. Whether he liked it or not was irrelevant. He would learn the truth and then he would go and think about what he was going to do with it. Surely, there would be options.

He knew he was not going to like any of them though.

Still, it was good that he had kept his initial impulse under control, and now the only repercussions he had to suffer were a headache and the sensation like someone had thrown a handful of sand into his eye. But those would pass, unpleasant though they were. It took a lot more for the Mangekyo Sharingan to actually start deteriorating and sealing itself. One had to repeatedly cast jutsu that consumed ungodly amounts of chakra and put too much strain on the body of the user.

Like Madara had been doing. Like _he_ had been doing. Of course, back then they hadn't known where it would lead them, hadn't foreseen the trap that lay ahead, at the end of the their frenetic quest for power. If they had, they wouldn't have overused the doujutsu.

Izuna paused, his brother's face flashing across his mind, eyes blazing, ruthless and desperate and determined to level down mountains to protect the clan.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and winced as a jolt of pain shot through his skull.

Then again, maybe nothing would have changed anyway. There had never been a choice to begin with, not for them.

Except now he did have a choice. He had a life _and_ a choice of doing whatever he wanted with it. He even got his eyesight back.

It was only too bad he had no idea what it was that he ought to be doing.

Izuna opened his eyes again and let his gaze linger on a blackened tree. There was a small yellow bird sitting on one of the upper branches. Absurdly, it put Izuna in mind of a breakfast he was apparently going to miss.

That and other things he was also going to miss, was missing them already.

He was alive again – approximately one hundred years after his own death, if the pink-haired kunoichi was to be trusted, in a world where his enemies' bones had long since turned to dust and worm food in their graves, and Tobirama Senju was out of reach forever, safe from his revenge, and Madara was gone too because no one lived that long, and so was his whole clan.

What had the girl – Sakura – said when he asked about that Sasuke person? _He is the last survivor of the Uchiha clan._

So his clan was no more.

There, he'd said it.

Izuna rolled the revelation around in his mind, watched the ripples it sent out as it rotated, listened to the echoes it made. He knew it hadn't truly sunken in yet, it was too enormous and too overwhelming an idea to work out all of its implications that fast. It was, he decided, akin to watching a volcano erupt in the distance. In your head, you knew it was all over, and soon the crush wave would hit you and burning ashes would rain down from the sky to entomb you forever, but before it happened, you had that endless moment of perfect silence, of calm before the storm.

Maybe the girl had lied...

 _No._

He hadn't developed his mind control jutsu so people could lie to him while under its effect. He couldn't pretend anymore, could he? He had deprived himself of this possibility as soon as he had activated the Mangekyo Sharingan. She had told him the truth.

And in his heart of hearts, hadn't he known it already – or suspected at least? When he had seen the abandoned compound nearly swallowed by the forest and found none of the familiar chakra signatures, including his brother's. When he had trekked through the unrecognizable land and fled from the unknown attacker in the old civilian village – he had forbidden himself to think he might never again see his family. Well, it had been nice while it lasted.

He really was alone. They were not coming back. No one was coming back.

Izuna looped back to his earlier thoughts about Madara and how he must have felt to see his last brother die and knew it had been unbearably painful.

And now he would have a chance to experience it firsthand. Only he would be even _more_ alone. At least Madara retained a purpose.

And what made it worse, Izuna was quickly coming to understand, he had never really been alone before – what on earth was he supposed to do without his clan? He had been brought up knowing that while individual shinobi came and went because such was life, the clan endured. It had always been there. It was ancient, dating back maybe a thousand years, all the way to the man who created ninjutsu, so it couldn't just disappear. It was supposed to last – like mountains and lakes and the sky above his head.

What was the point of anything if they were no longer around?

Morbidly fascinated, Izuna watched the realization flesh out and take root in his heart. It was like dying again but not quite. It was also funny that now he had the actual experience of dying and was in position to make comparisons and complain about the poor quality.

 _This death is just not good enough – it's taking me too long. I liked the previous one much better. Give it back._

He was the only one left.

Well, he and that Sasuke, whoever he was and wherever he was – Izuna was sure he would learn all about the guy from the kunoichi. She had confessed her love for him, and as far as Izuna was concerned, a woman in love usually amounted to a woman unable to shut up about the object of her romantic desires. No doubt, he'd never hear the end of it.

Where was she, anyway? Crawled into a corner and died? His right eye twitched as the headache plunged its teeth deeper into his skull.

Dimly, Izuna became aware of the rage building up inside him. It was a helpless, directionless fury that coursed through his body and made him want to scream out at the world and shatter it into million pieces and burn everything in the black flames of Amaterasu, starting with this disgusting village that had no right whatsoever to be so _peaceful_ and so _nice_ when the meaning of his whole existence had been snatched away from him.

He wanted it all back, and he wanted someone to tell him there was a way to get it back and who was to blame –

 _Ah._

But maybe there was someone to blame. The culprit.

The kunoichi had expected him to know about Konoha precisely because he was an Uchiha. That meant the Uchiha clan was – had been – connected to it in some way. She'd even called it _his own village._ For the life of him, he couldn't fathom why his family would have acquiesced to deal with a place ruled by the Senju, but that didn't matter at the moment.

Sakura – he had to remind himself to use her name – must know the whole story. That was good. He wouldn't have to search for clues all over the place, raising hell and beating the truth out of witnesses, because she would tell him everything. And if she loved his last surviving clansman so much she had felt compelled to tell _him_ about her crush, she was likely to even be able to supply certain details.

The anger subsided, replaced by the cold, razor-sharp sense of purpose. It was a familiar feeling, calm like a deep river flowing across the plain. If the person that had brought about his family's demise still walked the earth, Izuna knew what he needed to do. The knowledge lived in his blood and in the marrow of his bones.

Revenge.

If they were still alive – and he hoped they were – he would find them even if he had to travel to the end of the world and beyond. He would upturn every rock and drag them out of their hiding place . He would capture them and carve the image of his Sharingan into their memory and make sure his face was the last thing they saw as they begged for death to come and claim them. He would make them envy those already dead and rotting away.

Something inside him twisted and knotted up. His mind was set.

Izuna whirled around at the sound of hurried footsteps behind his back, just in time to see the kunoichi stumble out of the door on unsteady legs, face contorted into a mask of shocked disbelief.

She looked like a ghost that had loitered for too long on some godforsaken attic as she took a tentative step in his direction and raised a hand uncertainly. Her lips moved, forming words, but no sound came out. She stopped in her tracks, flicked dirty strands of hair out of her face –

–and stared at him with hungry, searching eyes.

-/-

Galvanized into action by her ridiculous idea – _can you even hear yourself?_ roared her common sense – Sakura rushed toward the door.

Or at least she tried to rush. Her legs refused to obey orders properly, and what she actually did was lurch, feet tangling, supported herself against the wall, cursing the Uchiha and his Mangekyo Sharingan under her breath, and tumbled out into the street with all the grace of a sack of potatoes.

Her worries were all for nothing. He hadn't gone anywhere and was calmly standing in the middle of the wreckage, basking in the morning sunlight and in the deep satisfaction of a bad job done well. His right hand rested on the hilt of the sword, but the fingers were relaxed – by that moment Sakura could already tell it was a habit, a purely instinctive gesture he was probably not even aware of making himself. His face was impassive, almost serene, revealing nothing of his feelings, provided he had any to begin with, of course, because maybe he didn't. Sakura stole a furtive glance at his profile, at the sharp contrast between the pale skin and the black hair, and was again struck by his similarity to Sasuke.

He pivoted to face her, no doubt alerted to her presence by the amount of noise she had produced. Sakura opened her mouth to tell him –

Tell him what, exactly?

 _Hey, you know what, have you by any chance been dead until recently?_ didn't sound too promising. _So, where did you spend the last century?_ had a marginally better ring to it but he was unlikely to appreciate its subtle playfulness. Was there even an acceptable way to inquire after something so... intimate? bizarre? None of the words she could think of fit or seemed safe to use.

Sakura suddenly wished she had spent less time punching holes in things and more studying useful subjects, such as diplomacy and the fine arts of negotiating.

Only Tsunade had never been good at those either. She was a strong, reliable woman, straightforward and clumsy, with an unlimited capacity for drinking and gambling, a big heart and a short temper. Sakura was beginning to suspect she might have inherited all those qualities. The Will of Tsunade, so to speak. A very potent thing. Well, she had yet to find out about drinking and gambling.

But it was a disaster. What should she say to _not_ mess it up?

Sakura shook her head in dismay, half-hoping it would jar the contents of her brain, and the right words would float up to the surface.

Izuna Uchiha was still standing there, expectant, a slight furrow in his brow as he waited for her speak up, and the resemblance to Sasuke became more pronounced, because this was an expression she knew oh so well. Sakura wondered, a little hysterically, if she had truly left the Infinite Tsukuyomi behind. What if she was simply watching the second version of the illusionary life begin to unfold? She had, after all, spent her earlier years wishing in her secret heart that Sasuke were a different person – not completely, but just enough so that loving him would become a little easier and more rewarding.

She wouldn't put it past Madara to cast a jutsu that actually took all those little subconscious fluctuations into account. He'd promised everyone would get their own perfect brand of dreamy happiness, hadn't he?

Ugh, she needed to stop thinking that, it was driving her crazy.

She looked closely at the shinobi in front of her, inspected him carefully, trying to superimpose her amazing, _stupid_ idea on him and see if she could get the two to meet anywhere.

Now that she was paying attention, she noticed that his attire was indeed similar to Madara's, with the exception of armor – long, loose, dark blue, with the ever-present high collar. She didn't need him to turn around to know he had the Uchiha crest emblazoned on his upper back.

The sword was a traditional katana, plain-looking and unadorned, no different in appearance from a million other swords. A perfect shinobi weapon – lethal and nondescript. Pragmatic. She could spot no other weapons, but that meant nothing, he might have a whole arsenal hidden somewhere on his person. Sakura was starting to see the benefit of wearing those clothes. And the sleeves looked especially suspicious. One could put anything up those wide sleeves and no one would ever know until it was too late.

Her gaze shifted back to his features, and again she marveled at how his hair framed his face in the that heartbreakingly familiar way, and how his eyes had the exact same slant as Sasuke's, and –

"You're gaping at me like a fish out of the water. Are you deranged?"

– and how his interpersonal skills apparently sucked as much.

Sakura came back to her senses. Yes, she _had_ been gaping at him. An unwanted, embarrassed blush crept up to her cheeks and she hoped fervently that it would be impossible to discern under the grime.

She floundered, then remembered that attack was the best defense.

"I was thinking," she snapped. "Trying to formulate my thoughts."

"Could have fooled me. I've never seen a more obvious absence of brain activity before."

She huffed indignantly. "Says the man who barges into other people's heads and turns everything upside down like it's his own kitchen. You've got no right to complain."

"I have considerably more respect for my kitchen. At least it's not a miserable mess."

"If I'm a mess, whose fault is it? Roast them first, ask questions later, is it?"

"It is. If you can't even take a little roasting, what's the point of talking to you?"

The nerve of him! Sakura glowered. Whatever had possessed her to think he had anything in common with Sasuke? They didn't really look all that alike. Sure, the was some similarity, but it was only because they both hailed from the same bloodline. How many different noses and chins and eyes could you have in one family, after all? They were bound to repeat eventually. And Sasuke had more grace than that. He might not be the most compassionate person in the world, and he might not love her the way she wished he would – _or at all_ , her brain was happy to supply – but at least he would have refrained from rubbing it in! He would have ignored her sorry state with aloof politeness, not pontificated upon it.

This bastard had attacked her for no reason and tried to kill her – and very nearly succeeded! Then he had broken into her mind and rummaged around in it, and announced that he was gong to interrogate her as he pleased, and now he had the gall to mock her for not being upbeat?

To the hell with him. He didn't deserve to be treated with consideration. Thank goodness, she had skipped her diplomacy lessons and stuck to hole-punching instead.

"I have a question for you," she told him, squaring her shoulders, like a warrior getting ready for the battle.

" _You_ have a question for _me_?" He gave her a haughty, incredulous look, but she noticed – and the medic in her piped up in agreement – that his expression was slightly tense, and his right eye was bloodshot. She had learned to decipher even the smallest signs of physical discomfort in her patients, so there was no way she would miss it.

Aha! He wasn't feeling all that great either.

 _Serves him right!_ was her first gleeful reaction.

It must be the Mangekyo Sharingan, she realized immediately afterwards. That was what had happened to Itachi Uchiha, and to Madara himself all those years ago. The Mangekyo Sharingan sealed itself the more it was used. Of course, unlike Itachi, Madara had then gone and borrowed his brother's eyes, solving this unfortunate problem once and for all when he created the Eternal Mangekyo Sharingan which he could abuse indefinitely to his heart's content.

Oh. His brother's eyes. But then how –

No, enough thinking. He was right in front her, she could just ask. She could be like Tsunade. Why not, and either way it made no difference. She didn't give a damn if he thought her rude.

Sakura straightened up. "It's a simple question," she told him levelly. "No trouble at all."

"What makes you think I will answer?"

"You will." And she really believed that. She _knew_ he would answer.

Because she also believed she could guess his answer already, could see it flutter, trapped behind the blackness of his eyes, could hear the inaudible sound the destiny made as it rolled out beneath their feet, could feel history rip open and fold back to let out a secret –

She teetered on the precipice, knew the world balanced on the verge of tipping over.

"Are you Madara Uchiha's dead brother?" she said, blunt and straightforward like Tsunade, the words rushing to fall from her lips, to escape before she had a change of heart and regretted saying them.

The air around the two of them tingled with the promise of things to come.

 _There is no going back now_ , Sakura thought, sliding along the edge of the inevitable, acutely aware of every little detail, of every intake of breath, of the tightening of his fingers on the hilt of the sword.

She watched the man in front of her freeze as though all life had been sucked out of him.

An impossibly long moment passed.

He licked his lips.

"Yes," he said. "I am."

"Ah," Sakura replied faintly. "Then, I guess, I'm ready to answer your questions."

-/-

* * *

 _(to be continued)_

* * *

A/N: I've managed to write a chapter without fighting or running in it. Go me! But all that stuff will be back in the next one. Things will go wrong again for them.

Anyway, I'm happy that you guys like my version of Izuna. It really does feel like I'm building his character from scratch. Basically, almost everything we know about Izuna is actually about Madara. About Izuna himself we know only that his skills were on par with his brother before Madara got the Eternal Mangekyo, that he resembled Sasuke very much and that he was 24 when he got killed (it's in one of the databooks).

But from what we do see in the manga, and that's little, he seems cynical and disinclined to trust people, which - to me - is pretty logical, and makes for a good chemistry with Sakura who's the exact opposite, so I decided to go in that direction.

We will eventually find out what's up with Izuna and mind control, and why he came back to life, what happened to Madara, and all the other stuff. Poor Sakura though - she wants him to be Sasuke and hates him for it, and just feels confused and disappointed all the time. That's how people are in real life too.

Please drop a review, they make my day! XD


	7. A Place Like Home

**Chapter 6**

 _(a place like home)_

-/-

 _I returned to the village_  
 _Where I first learned to cry_  
 _I returned to the mountain_  
 _Where the scene is nature_  
 _With no place for a picture_  
 _I returned to my house whose every block_  
 _My forefathers had quarried out of rock_  
 _By their own hand._  
 _I returned to my own self —_  
 _That was the plan._

– **Naim Arayidi** , _I Returned to the Village_

-/-

 _Water, water, water!_ sang Sakura's heart as she opened the door to her apartment. _And soap! And shampoo! And water! And fresh, clean clothes! And oh yes, did I mention water?_

All other thoughts vacated her head temporarily and she liked it just fine that way. She had done so much thinking in the course of the last twenty-four hours that she felt almost sick of it. It was high time she had stopped that silliness and enjoyed all the perks of civilization and, more importantly, her time alone and away from Izuna Uchiha.

About the fact that it wouldn't last there was little doubt. But she was going to take advantage of this short respite nonetheless.

Kicking off her sandals – _finally_ , her feet told her with reproach – Sakura made sure the door was locked fast. Then she peeled off her shirt, ruined beyond recognition anyway, and dropped it to the floor – it landed with a dull thump. She made a mental note to throw all those rags away later and headed straight for the bathroom. The floor was pleasantly warm under her bare feet.

For some reason, the lights didn't turn on when she flipped the switch, but she ignored it. She was alone in the apartment and she could simply leave the door open while she bathed. It would let more than enough light in.

A wide smile on her face, Sakura divested herself of the remaining garments and turned on the water only to be immediately reminded of what happened to those who left their home unattended for too long – the water was rusty. She sighed and let it run. It occurred to her that with everyone in Konoha asleep or gone, no one was left around to do maintenance, which meant that sooner or later indoor plumbing and electricity and everything else she associated with normal life would become nothing but a memory of the happier times. And then other things would also start to crumble. Like houses – for example, she had no idea what to do with a leaking roof except move the bed to the other side of the room.

Perching precariously on the edge of the bathtub, Sakura imagined the years go by as the ruins of her world got slowly buried under the shifting sands and heavy snows, as the rain forests claimed slumbering villages and lightless cities until they became ghosts and shadows inhabiting the stories she told to her children before bedtime as she sat in a cave by the fire and picked her teeth with a fish bone.

Her own time would be known as the Age of Legends and Enlightenment. She would miss it terribly and write everything down before dying, on whatever paper she would be able to lay her hands on so that the future generations could learn of the unspeakable tragedy their ancestors had brought upon themselves.

Alright. No way she would agree to live in a cave. And where would those children come from? It wasn't like they just popped out of nowhere and she couldn't go and produce any unless she found the second party willing to take part in the process, so to speak...

Ugh. A very vivid image of herself and Izuna Uchiha – the only option currently available to her – relaunching the history of the humankind together swam across her mind. Good grief, no. And she was so _not_ going to ponder the fact that in her imagination all their kids looked like Sasuke.

Yes, here was another good reason to get that world-saving thing under way as soon as possible.

Sakura blinked the horrible fantasy away and stuck her hand under the water that was almost transparent by that moment. Hot! Giddy with excitement, she climbed into the shower.

 _Ohh..._ She could practically hear every part of her body squeal in ecstasy.

The water turned a dark, grayish color with all the dirt and grime she had accumulated on her skin and hair. It felt relaxing just watching it flush down the drain – as though her problems were being carried away too, never to return. If only things were that simple.

Sakura rinsed her hair with the apple shampoo – it didn't smell like apples at all, which was a bit of a let down – and repeated the procedure just to be sure, and then scrubbed her whole body with such fervor that by the time she was finished her skin felt raw.

 _Life is good_ , she thought blissfully, _or the next best thing._

She stopped the water and got out of the bathtub. Drying her hair with a towel, she stepped out into the hallway and padded toward the kitchen, her feet trailing water over the floor. She was so, so hungry she could swallow... well, anything. A mammoth. Maybe two. Some Ichiraku ramen wouldn't come amiss either.

She remembered the chef and his friendly, carefree smile, and wondered where he was now. Sleeping likely – what else – but it didn't bear thinking about. It depressed her, and she needed to stay optimistic. Pessimists never accomplished anything. They spent all the time wallowing in misery and spreading the blame instead of actually trying to do something good...

Well, she would have to make do with whatever food she happened to have at home. Sakura wrapped the towel around herself, secured it with an improvised knot and opened the door of the fridge.

Eww!

She closed it quickly.

And opened it again, cautiously, only now noticing that the fridge was not, in fact, working in spite of being properly plugged in. There was no inside light either. The electricity seemed to be cut off.

Oh sure. What had she expected? They were up to their necks in the Infinite Tsukuyomi, no thanks to the incomparable genius of Madara Uchiha.

In the cozy darkness inside the fridge, things had clearly evolved in her absence and very likely were on the verge of inventing the wheel. She didn't want to look closely for fear she might be unable to erase the memory afterwards. And _the stench_.

Sakura shut the fridge with a firm hand. She would have to rain destruction on the nearly civilized life inside it, of course, but now was not the time. She wanted to eat something and go find Izuna before he lost what little patience he appeared to possess and showed up on her doorstep himself, which was the last thing she wanted. It wasn't like they were done talking.

In truth, they had barely scratched the surface.

She wondered where he was and what he might be doing at the moment. They had hardly parted on a good note.

It was all his own fault, though. She had nothing to blame herself for.

When she told him she was ready to answer his questions, she hadn't really expected him to start by asking about the Uchiha Clan massacre. She had thought... She wasn't sure what it was she had thought, really, just not that. She had never dealt with people like him before. But wouldn't it have been more logical of him to ask how the world worked in these new times or even where all the inhabitants of Konoha were? Anyone should find it puzzling that such a big village seemed completely deserted, after all.

But he was so _single-minded_.

He hadn't even asked her how she knew he was Madara's brother. He had just fixed her with a stare and said in a tight voice. "Tell me what exactly happened to my clan. Are they really all gone?"

Well. Of course, she had told him. What else could she have done? He hadn't taken it well.

"So," he had said slowly, "allow me to recap. That Itachi, who is your Sasuke's brother, slaughtered his own family – _my_ family – in one night. Yes?"

"Basically, yes," Sakura had replied, feeling slightly uncomfortable and not quite understanding why. "But he... eh, had help. From Obito Uchiha, like I told you."

"And then your Sasuke killed his brother."

"Yes. He sort of did. Except he's not _mine_. But, look, I told you, it was more complicated than that, and Itachi didn't want to kill them, it's just that he had no choice –"

"Sure. He didn't. And that Obito person? Also dead? And I expect he was a victim too?"

"Eh, well..."

"Didn't have any choice either, I suppose."

"Look, it's not what it seems, I mean, sure what he did was terrible, but he was manipulated into it. And in the end – "

"I see," Izuna had said very quietly, and Sakura shifted nervously under his gaze.

It had been awful, she reflected as she stood on tiptoes and peered into the kitchen cupboard and spotted some dry crackers and rather suspicious-looking noodles, patiently biding their time on the upper shelf. Awful and awkward and maybe one of the worst situations she'd ever had the misfortune to end up in. It was right there with the fight against Sasori, although in a different way, of course. What right did she have to tell this man about the murder of his whole clan? She hadn't been there. She hadn't lived through it. She was a stranger. Someone like Sasuke should be telling him. She didn't want to be the bearer of bad news and she didn't think it was her place to allocate the blame or even pass judgment.

Originally, she had planned to tell him about Madara and how he had more or less ended the world for them all. She had decided to throw that into his face and then watch him squirm when he tried to justify his brother's homicidal actions and unquestionable insanity as he undoubtedly would have done. She had wanted to kick him off his high horse, to point out that he couldn't get any revenge on dead people, and so he might as well learn to live with it

But then she had found herself unable to do any of it. It was just too heartless, and besides, Sakura couldn't stop thinking of the history repeating itself, replaying the same cruel joke again and again, and what was the difference between Izuna and Sasuke in that particular moment? But at the same time, she didn't want to be part of it. His tragedy was his own to deal with. She had put her whole life on the altar of her love for Sasuke, and although she didn't regret it even for a moment, she knew that was as far as she went.

Sasuke was Sasuke. He would always be in her heart. Whether he deserved it or not was not even an issue because... Well, it didn't matter now. And since she didn't have another heart to give to this other Uchiha, he was on his own. She just didn't want to witness his breakdown – or his silence, which was even worse. She had felt as though she were shrinking in size, wished for the ground to open up and swallow her, wanted to hide from his heavy gaze that seemed to drag her down.

So, instead of mocking him, she had shuffled her feet and capitalized on the moment.

"Well, look," she had said in her best neutral tone. "I know I said I was ready to answer everything, but it's all a really long story. How about I go home and take a bath and change and then we continue? Because it might take hours to tell you everything."

"Go home?" he had frowned at her as if across a great distance.

"To where I live? I need to wash off all this dirt."

"Indeed you do, yes. You look worse than a stray cat."

"Great," she had exclaimed with fake cheerfulness before he came up with something even more insulting. "I live three streets away from here. Well, not like you won't be able to find me, right? Let's meet in an hour... no, in two hours." She had whirled around and darted down the street, not waiting for him to respond.

And then, because it had been too hard to resist, she had looked back at him just as she was about to round the corner and called out, "And maybe, you know, you should consider taking a bath too! I can just tell you had a rough day... or night. Why, anyone would be able to _smell_ it on you!"

" _What!?"_

She had stabbed her finger in the general direction of the Hokage Rock. "We've got hot springs here in Konoha. Feel free to use them. Or not. Whatever!"

And then she had fled, leaving him behind with his grief and his righteous indignation.

 _He'll go out of his way to pay me back for that, won't he?_

Well, at least she had won some time to think of a strategy. Arguably, it was more important than taking a shower.

Sakura propped her elbows on the kitchen table, put her chin in her hands and wondered where he was now – hopefully not raging or planning to do something horrible next time he saw her. A small rueful smile played on her lips as she reminded herself who she was dealing with.

The Uchiha were notorious for their vindictive streak.

-/-

Izuna unfolded himself from where he knelt on the floor in a completely unfamiliar house and ran a hand through his hair, lost in thought. He made no attempt to brush himself off because it was entirely too late to pretend his clothes – and the rest of him – didn't need washing

In front of him was a gaping hole in the floor, and beneath it, what appeared to be a tunnel of sorts, leading down into the depths of the earth – _or into the depths of hell_ , Izuna thought dryly – although it was impossible to say how far down it went or if it turned somewhere, because he could only see so far, even with the Sharingan activated.

He had considered using Fire Style ninjutsu to illuminate it properly but rejected the idea almost at once. There could very well be something explosive down there, and Izuna didn't want to have his head blown off. That would be a truly inglorious death, and he suspected he wouldn't be getting another chance at life any time soon.

The hole itself was quite wide, as holes went, almost wide enough for an adult person to fit in. Almost. But still not wide enough. Izuna knew that with all certainty, because he had already tried to crawl inside and failed, very nearly getting stuck in the process. The only good thing about it all was that nobody had been around to watch and laugh.

Yes, that little scene would never make it into his official biography, not if he had a say in the matter.

What disturbed him was not the presence of the hole itself, a weird thing though it was to have indoors, but the chakra residues he could see through the Sharingan around its jagged edges and on the walls of the tunnel, if one could call them that. The residues were old and faint, and he estimated that soon enough they would wear off completely, but for now they still remained strong enough to read.

The chakra had a distinct Wood element flavor.

Izuna stared fixedly at the hole, Sharingan swirling, and tugged at his ponytail. The Wood Style. Senju?

 _Who else?_ he thought sourly, _especially in this goddamn village._

So, some Senju were still hanging around – or had been hanging around until recently – and even though they may not be Tobirama and Hashirama, who had been _real_ Senju, he couldn't decide how he felt about the fact. Part of him insisted that he should hate them and maybe all of Konoha on principal.

Which would include Sakura.

Izuna brightened up despite the unrelenting headache. He could definitely hate her, especially after her last infuriating comment. In many ways, hatred was a rather useful thing. It injected colors into the world. It made one more aware of what it meant to be alive. It made people treasure everything that was important to them so much more.

On the other hand, he had nothing to treasure except for his own life and his eyes, miraculously returned to him, so getting worked up about a random Senju who had already gone away was somewhat useless.

Or it would be, if not for two little facts.

Over the last hour, he had inspected five other houses, and out of those five, three displayed similar signs: floors ripped apart to let something or someone in – something that could burrow through the earth, apparently – the same lingering chakra, the same broken furniture and scattered personal belongings near the place where whatever it was had emerged from beneath. Izuna found it hard to believe that the people who lived in those houses welcomed this sort of entertainment.

The other two houses had been empty and untouched by any destructive force. He had wandered around, marveling at the sheer amount of junk they kept in their homes, and pocketed some throwing weapons and a vial of handy poison to be put on a blade for a better killing effect, but other than that, it had been quiet and uneventful.

Inwardly, Izuna cursed himself. He should have asked Sakura about the villagers. Where had they gone off to? Surely she knew. Now he would have to wait until she returned, and already he couldn't stop thinking that they might have been ensnared and dragged underground into the tunnels.

 _No, that doesn't work_ , he realized immediately, _or I would have been able to get in too._

Still, what could have possibly made those holes? Judging by their vaguely round shape... snakes? _Giant_ snakes. No, it was a Wood Style jutsu, and as such, it wouldn't feature snakes. Something to do with trees and plants...

Roots? Or vines. Roots made more sense though, they were naturally under the ground. But why use them to break into houses? Especially when there were so many other, less messy ways. Moreover, why would a Senju shinobi have to break into houses in a village that generally believed the Senju clan made the world go round?

And then there was the second detail that made Izuna think dark, chilly thoughts he was unable to finish.

Without a doubt, this was the chakra he had felt last night in the civilian village. It was the chakra he had been forced to escape from, only back there it had been so strong it was overwhelming, and so it had taken him longer to make connections with the washed-up trail here in Konoha.

But he was certain. It was the same. And now that he came to think of it, it differed from what he remembered about the Senju clan and their ninjutsu. He had fought them so many times – his whole life, really – that he would be able to distinguish their chakra from all others if he was blindfolded, drunk and hit over the head with an axe.

Their chakra had always felt _clean_. It was a very obvious, straightforward kind of power; brutal but uncomplicated in the sense that it lacked a certain underhanded twist Izuna himself was so fond of. He even used to think of it as predictable and a little naive at times, although perhaps he simply had been biased.

Regardless, what he could sense here – or last night – reeked of something repulsive. It was foul and heavy, its fundamental wrongness seeping through and pulsating in his temples in perfect sync with the Mangekyo-induced headache.

Izuna closed his eyes momentarily, deactivating the Sharingan.

Then he turned on his heel and exited the house without a second glance at the wreckage and the yawning darkness below.

Hot springs. He was going to find those hot springs and soak there until the end of forever.

Or at least until the ringing in his ears stopped.

 _-/-_

 _Well, that was pretty childish of me,_ Sakura thought, sitting down on a kitchen chair, thinking about her conversation with Izuna and feeling ever so slightly ashamed of her words. _And petty. But he was asking for it._

She chewed on a cracker absentmindedly. It tasted like an old shoe, which likely meant it was nutritious as a great big plate of vegetables. That was what she preferred to believe.

She really didn't want to see Izuna again. He was rude and arrogant and dangerous – because he was stronger than her, and because he was an Uchiha, and also because he was a stranger here in her time. _She_ would be very put out, not to say extremely stressed, to find herself stranded in some distant future where Konoha had fallen into ruin and her friends had died and the world was ruled by purple unicorns or something. To Izuna, the situation must look more or less like that. What he would do under such pressure remained to be seen, and probably it all boiled down to his personality, which was still largely a mystery.

And that was the first part of the bitter truth.

The second part was that she hardly had a choice in the matter. It wasn't even about his Sharingan or anything he could inflict on her. It was about what _she_ needed to do.

She had been thinking – or rather, she had been trying to think, in those short periods of time when nothing and nobody attacked her – about what she should do after she reached Konoha. Obviously, she had to find a way to dispel the Infinite Tsukuyomi, but it was easier said than done. She didn't know the first thing about it, only what Madara had deigned to tell them as he bragged about his master plan.

Sakura finished the last cracker and started on the noodles. They tasted like a spicy old shoe. Surely they were good for her health.

So, the Infinite Tsukuyomi was a genjutsu – and she was no expert on genjustu. Definitely not on Sharingan genjutsu. It was also the biggest genjutsu in scale and the most terrible one in regard to impact. Madara had said that it encompassed the whole world and used the moon as a... a lens of sorts, perhaps? Sakura wasn't sure how it really worked. He had said it was reflected off the surface of the moon, but that sounded like a bit of a simplification or maybe just a cool turn of the phrase. Anyway, how was she supposed to do anything about the moon? It just hang in the sky out there.

Sakura imagined herself training rigorously day and night to jump extra high so she could reach the moon and punch it right in its smug, grinning face with a chakra-enhanced fist.

 _Hell yeah._ She giggled despite the gravity of the situation. _Not going to happen._

There had to be a different way to go about it. It had to be a metaphor, right? Madara hadn't really gone all the way there either, hadn't he? He flew up into the sky, yes, but that was probably only to make sure nothing obstructed the Rinnegan's vision.

To get a good view of the moon.

She giggled again because it just sounded crazy.

 _Definitely no moon gazing for me from now on._

That aside, the Infinite Tsukuyomi was an overblown version of the normal Tsukuyomi. It was a Rinnegan jutsu, and the Rinnegan itself was, as it turned out to be, just an evolution of the Sharingan which took place in the eyes of the same user. And there was only one clan in existence that possessed the Sharingan – the Uchiha clan.

Sakura finished the noodles and pushed the bowl away.

She was a nobody herself, and the history of the shinobi clans with their closely guarded secrets had never been of much interest to her. She just naturally accepted that some people were talented and gifted and had bloodline limits while she had to rely on hard work. Maybe it was because she had always been in love with Sasuke?

Anyway, the Uchiha were truly an old clan. As far as she knew, they had been around since time immemorial, although she had no idea exactly for how long – two, three centuries? longer? – and neither had she ever asked herself, or Sasuke for that matter, how they had come to be a clan and where the Sharingan originated from. Silly her.

She knew they had been a highly secretive lot though. She could visit the Archives, of course, but somehow she doubted she would find a thick file labeled "Infinite Tsukuyomi. Avoid and Dispel" there. Whatever terrible ancient secrets the Uchiha might have kept, they must have taken them all into the afterlife with them. Madara was likely the only one in possession of them all...

Except not anymore. There was Izuna now. Madara's own younger brother was here, in Konoha, back for who knew what weird and convoluted reasons. And not as a temporary product of the Impure World Resurrection jutsu that could cease to exist any moment, but a real person, flesh and blood and Sharingan eyes.

A real, honest-to-god Uchiha shinobi from the times before the Founding. Right here, a couple of streets away. It was unbelievable. Her brain still had trouble accommodating such a preposterous notion.

If anyone had a chance of cracking the secret of the Infinite Tsukuyomi for her, it was him.

So she just needed him to cooperate with her.

 _Haha! Easy!_

Lips pursed, Sakura got up from the chair and padded over into the bedroom where she proceeded to throw open the doors of the wardrobe. There was no time to lose. She had a mission which was probably ranked so high it didn't even have a rank. A self-assigned mission. She was so not getting paid.

But her friends would be alive. Yes, they would. She _would_ make it in time to save them.

She put on her usual outfit and felt more... confident somehow. It was rather embarrassing that something as trivial as wearing her favorite clothes made her feel better, but there it was. She checked her medical supplies and added some soldier pills just in case. She took several shuriken and kunai from her weapon box and stuffed them into holsters. Hastily combing her hair, she tied her headband. She pulled on her comfortable black boots.

Well, she was good to go. Time to seek out Izuna and try to get along with him. Ugh. And she hoped he had listened to her advice and taken a bath.

She paused only for a moment to give herself a satisfied once-over in the big mirror hanging on the wall.

And froze. Because in the mirror –

The door banged loudly when she flew out of the apartment like an arrow, rolled down the stairs and hightailed in the direction of the Hokage Rock.

-/-

It was still early in the morning, and Izuna had already accomplished a great deal. It was satisfying to get things done.

So far, he had carried out his short but rather insightful investigation of possible crime scenes – it hadn't been in the plan originally, but who cared – restocked on kunai and shuriken along the way, broken into a store to steal some clothes, visited the hot springs mentioned by Sakura, and, the last but not the least, had managed to work himself back into his normal state of cynical disdain.

He had also succeeded at banishing the thought of revenge from his mind, and that counted as a huge victory.

It was one thing to hate the murderer of his clan and want to hunt them down – that was perfectly appropriate – and another to waste valuable time and emotional resources of which he had a limited supply trying to think himself into a gloomy corner because there was no one to disembowel. He knew, of course, that he could not just will away the fact that his entire family was no more, nor could he order them to stop mattering and rip them out of his heart. It didn't work that way. They would always stand behind his back, casting shadows on his life and on whatever future he would build for himself, and that was something he would have to deal with until his dying day.

But he _could_ wrap up the memory of them and lock it away and seal it so that their ghosts didn't wander around clanking their chains while he took care of the more immediate needs. Such as survival, for example.

Practical approach. Therein lay salvation.

To think that it had only taken him about two hours. He was doing great.

The headache was mostly gone too.

Barely quelling the desire to make a rude gesture at the giant stone carvings of the Senju, Izuna shamelessly used a nearby balcony to hang his old clothes to dry in the sun and, after a moment's cogitation, kicked open the balcony door and went inside, wondering if he was going to see any more holes in the floor.

He was quite content to find none.

The room looked bright, done in beige and white and sandy brown, with an occasional interlude of those other colors only women ever knew the names of. It gave off a peaceful, cozy feeling, and was spacious, with big windows and high ceilings. To him, it seemed cluttered and stuffy anyway though. Izuna had never seen such a dense concentration of furniture in one room before.

Intuitively, he understood the general purpose of most things that were new to him but couldn't help but condemn the sheer impracticality of the owners. They were supposed to be shinobi here, weren't they? What kind of self-respecting ninja had a whole shelf full of cheerful porcelain pigs of various sizes, and who wanted to sleep on that great big thing that occupied half the room when a futon worked perfectly fine and could be rolled up and put away in the morning? And what would they do if an assassin got in through the window and they had to fight – hide under it? Just moving around this room required being mindful of one thousand and one unnecessary objects that would undoubtedly get in the way.

Hm. Maybe those pigs were actually weapons? Bombs? Poison containers? Why not, that would explain different sizes, too. Weapons that didn't look one bit like weapons, that was common sense.

Izuna picked up the smallest figurine and turned it over cautiously in his hands. Its painted smile seemed forced.

It was simply hollow inside – and nothing else.

He replaced the little pig on the shelf. _These people are hopeless_.

Briefly, he wondered if Sakura also lived in such a house and kept artificial pigs or maybe cats around. He would ask her later.

If he was still interested by the time she showed up. Maybe.

Maybe he should have followed her home, after all. Not that finding her again on his own would present that much of a problem, but what if she got clever and decided to make an escape? She had looked like she was out of chakra, sure, but she had also appeared depleted in the very beginning, before their fight. And then she very nearly crushed his ribs with a chakra-laden fist. He would have been in trouble, had it not been for the Sharingan.

She really was good at taijutsu, he had been right about it. More importantly though, how had she managed to replenish her chakra reserves that fast? What was it that she had done? Was it something only she could perform or did all ninja here possess such skills? Couldn't have been a jutsu though – any jutsu required chakra to cast. So... some kind of medicine? A drug?

His gaze swept around the room. Perhaps he should stay here a while longer. There might be interesting things lying around. Clues to what she might have done to get her chakra back.

She had told him she was all alone here and since no one could possibly lie under his genjutsu, that had to be the truth, however unlikely. The fact that he hadn't seen a single living being anywhere confirmed her words too. So for now, she still remained his only real source of information, and losing her would inconvenience him considerably. He supposed that even if she ran he could always track her down and beat some sense and obedience into her or simply subject her to Tsukuyomi that she seemed to be so unreasonably infatuated with.

Izuna frowned. _Bad idea_.

 _His_ Tsukuyomi would kill her. She could be of no use to him dead.

He had made a mistake. He shouldn't have allowed her to go anywhere until she told him everything. What had he been thinking? Who cared if she wanted to bathe or eat or embroider pillows! Oh yes, he had been so busy thinking about revenge – the revenge he was not even going to get, how pathetic was that! – that he had become careless. _Again._

Well, if he was going to continue making more blunders such as this, he might as well have stayed properly killed by Tobirama Senju because that was what he deserved.

And he certainly shouldn't have let her taunting get to him. That was simply embarrassing.

Irrationally, Izuna wished for things to slay but none were available.

In the following twenty minutes, he dug methodically through all the boxes, shelves and drawers in sight, a look of concentration etched on his face. It didn't occur to him that what he was doing was wrong – or rather, the thought sparkled dimly, like a distant star, on his mental horizon and was gone in an instant. If he wanted to understand the ways of the crazy world he had ended up in, he might as well start right away. If he wanted to survive – and he did – he would learn all there was to learn and adjust to it. It was called reconnaisance.

Whoever had resurrected him hadn't bothered to ask if he was willing to come back a whole century after his own death nor had they dignified him with an explanation. He felt inclined to assume they had a reason to bring him back though, which meant that eventually – hopefully soon – someone would show up or contact him and things would start making sense again.

And if no one came looking for him, then what?

Izuna paused, one hand hovering over the stack of papers he'd retrieved from a box that used to be hidden under the bed. The question hung suspended in the darkness of his mind, unanswered. It made him uneasy. What if he waited and waited, and days turned into months, and summer became autumn, in the end it was all in vain? There was no proof that someone out there had any special plans for him.

Then he thought, _and if they do have plans for me, I may not like them._

And then he also thought, _and if I keep thinking about it, I'll go mad in no time at all._

Fine. If no one showed up, he would just have to make the best of the future that was no longer future.

Izuna leafed through the papers quickly, congratulating himself on being able to read them at least. If those future people had changed the way they wrote things too, that would just top the list. Luckily they hadn't sunk so low.

He dumped the documents back into the box, disappointed. He had just wasted five minutes of his precious life perusing someone's love letters – boring and cheesy as hell – and shopping lists, or something that looked like shopping lists anyway. He kicked the box to the side and flopped onto the bed, glaring at the chaos and entropy he had successfully created.

Overall, the search had unveiled a rather impressive selection of bottles containing various alcohol beverages he had never even heard of, some books and scrolls that failed to impress him and a truly astonishing amount of audacious female garments that immediately put him in mind of the brothel he had encountered when he entered the village.

On the upside, he now knew that the owner was indeed a kunoichi called Ino something – it was in the letters – and that also explained the origin of the pigs. Women liked useless things provided they looked pretty.

All that information was going to make a world of difference. On a cold day in hell.

Izuna heaved a sigh and allowed himself to fall back, sprawling across the bed on top of the covers.

He stared at the ceiling and asked himself what on earth he was doing. He didn't even _want_ to know anything, not really. He didn't give a damn about this world he didn't consider his own; and he couldn't care less about this Senju village and its inhabitants and whoever was poking holes in their floors; and their jutsu and chakra replenishing methods were of so little interest to him it was laughable because he had enough of his own.

They could all burn or prosper or slowly go extinct. What did it matter to him?

He was hardly going to stay.

Izuna wondered if he should go and search the rest of the apartment since he'd done so much already, but he just couldn't bring himself to get up. He was hungry and generally exasperated. What he needed to do, he didn't want to do, and what he wanted was impossible to achieve.

So he did nothing and lounged in someone else's house instead, getting bored out of his mind despite his predicament. That was worst of all.

He hadn't slept well last night either. The day had barely started and he had an interrogation coming up. He would have to think of the right questions to ask Sakura. He would have to endure her presence which he found tiresome, and her irritating manner of speaking like her opinion should matter to him when it didn't, and her voice that was entirely too loud.

There wasn't a single likable thing about her. If he could swap her for someone else, he would.

And if she ran away from him, he would catch her and chop her up because he was just so frustrated.

He wished he could go back in time. _Back to my own time_.

As if on cue, there was a sound of hurried footsteps outside in the street. Rather, someone was running. Getting closer.

Ahh. Sakura was coming back. Izuna sprang up from the bed and crossed over to the window, mildly curious as to what had made her gallop like a frightened horse. Yes, there she was.

He saw Sakura approach at full speed, darting occasionally to the side to peer down a side street or into a cozy garden. Her sandals bit into the ground as she came to an abrupt halt at the corner and rotated on the spot, head turning left and right as if she were looking for something.

Or someone.

Izuna raised a quizzical eyebrow. Could she really be looking for him of all people? After she had seemed so happy to get away? That piqued his interest somewhat. Besides, his annoyance with her and with the world itself notwithstanding, he still needed that information, after all.

Taking care not to make a sound, he slipped out on the balcony. She was almost directly beneath it, so he wound up staring down at the top of her head. The color was even more outrageous than before now that she had obviously washed her hair.

Leaning casually on the railing, Izuna waited.

He may need her, yes. But it didn't necessarily mean he was going to make it easy for her.

-/-

* * *

 _(to be continued)_

* * *

A/N: yes, Izuna has a problem, doesn't he? He constantly overthinks everything. And he _does_ have a vindictive streak. Sakura is kinder - which is not the same as weak - but she also has a problem, and it's called Sasuke. Apart from the whole Apocalypse thing, that is.

Next time we find out what happened to Sakura.

Thank you all for your awesome reviews, I love them! Please tell me what you think!


	8. Women, Truth, and Dangerous Things

**Chapter 7.**

 _(women, truth and dangerous things)_

-/-

 _The bedroom reeks of really old sweat.  
Alice has risen up from wonderland,  
Waking with an adventure-woozy head.  
Her slippers do not fit. Her hand  
Combs a few hairs down flat. She steps  
Out of her gown. Everything shivers.  
The mirror is mist, her breath is bitter._

– **Bernard Dewulf,** _Alice After Wonderland_

-/-

Seconds ticked on.

Down in the street, Sakura seemed to sink into a trance or maybe she had fallen asleep, Izuna couldn't really say, but she stopped her erratic movement.

He waited.

Finally, Sakura rubbed her neck. "How long do you intend to stand there watching me, you creep?"

"I'm not sure yet," he said, making a point of ignoring the insult. "How did you know?"

She raised her head to look up at him. "You," she told him, "have the heaviest gaze in the world. Just so you know."

 _Do I?_ Izuna was genuinely surprised. He couldn't decide if it was a good or bad thing to find out about himself. Perhaps it was both. "I expect someone would have mentioned that by now if it was true."

"Yeah well, maybe they assumed you knew. Don't you ever look in the mirror?"

"I do. Note that your approach to flattery lacks subtlety and finesse though, so work on those."

"I was not –! Oh, whatever. I can't believe you said that with a straight face." She frowned suddenly. "What are you doing there?"

"Nothing. What does it look like I'm doing?"

"No! I mean – what are you _doing_ there, my friend lives in that apartment!"

Ah, how nice. The pigs should have given him a clue. "Didn't see her. But maybe I should have checked under the carpet?"

"Don't be a dick. Of course, she's not there, or she would've kicked your sorry ass out. But you can't just break into her house and _do things_ there." She glared. "You didn't do anything too creepy, did you?"

"Not at all. I only read her correspondence and slept on her bed."

"Dammit, _why_?"

"I suppose I had nothing better to do," Izuna told her honestly.

Sakura appeared to be rendered speechless, or rather, she was likely looking for words that could aptly describe her feelings and all of them were falling short of her expectations due to being way too mild.

She inhaled sharply. "Are you coming down here or not? I have something important to ask you."

He considered taunting her for a little longer – at least three really good comebacks sprang to his mind – but decided against it. Her angry sputtering amused him but only because he was so excruciatingly bored. He even felt like he was bored with being bored.

And she wanted something from him. Or at the very least, she wanted to talk to him, which, under the circumstances, was a decent enough entertainment option.

In the furthest, darkest corner of his mind, something uncoiled and slithered to the forefront, making him uncomfortably aware of what was happening.

 _Getting excited because a clanless kunoichi showed a bit of interest in me? Oh how the mighty have fallen._

Izuna wondered if it was possible to go mad from boredom. Maybe the next year would see him befriending port whores and street urchins. He would have to find a way to occupy time, wouldn't he? What would he do when he had no reason to do anything? In this future world, he was a man without purpose, family or history. Here, he didn't even exist because he was already dead and forgotten. A perfect nobody.

And a nobody could be anybody. Could choose to become anybody.

The thought tugged at something inside him, too complicated and weighty to process it quickly. Like a dark whirlpool, it was drawing him in, condemning and oddly liberating at the same time.

With an effort, Izuna tore himself away from the contemplation. Later, he would return to it later. When he was done with Sakura and on his way to... to wherever he decided to go.

"Will you stop with that look and come down here already? You're creeping me out!"

Hands on hips, Sakura was apparently waiting for him, the expression on her face peevish and impatient.

"If you insist," he told her, leaping over the railing and down into the street, making sure to land out of her reach. His intuition was telling him in a urgent whisper that he would be an idiot to take risks, especially with the full extent of her abilities yet unknown. The girl may look harmless, but she definitely had something to back up her courage. Now that he knew they were alone in the village, he had to admit her bold behavior was really her own choice and didn't depend on any help she might hope to receive from others. That could only mean one thing – she was confident enough to face him on her own.

As soon as he alighted, Sakura moved in his direction. She did it with the inevitability of a charging bull, an air of consternation hanging about her like a cloud. It was clear that she fully intended to breach his personal space – something very few people dared try.

His fingers closed around the sword hilt.

She covered the distance between them so fast that he reacted instinctively. His Sharingan activated, dying the world red, and he had half-drawn the katana from the scabbard before realizing that this was no attack.

Her bright eyes were clouded by a feeling he hadn't seen her display before, not even when she had lost in their fight earlier. It looked almost like... panic?

She stopped just short of bumping into him and leaned in.

"How old do I look?" she demanded to know, paying no attention to the fact that she was in danger of being decapitated.

Izuna blinked, too shocked to react. Surely he had misheard..?

"Are you deaf?" Her brows drew together and her voice rose. "Come on now, tell me – how old am I?"

She was crazy. That was the only possible explanation. Great time to freak out about her looks.

"Are you asking _me_?" She was so close he could _smell_ her – the clean, fresh smell of her hair and skin with the underlying metallic tinge characteristic of all shinobi.

"There's no one else I can ask, of course I'm asking you!" she snapped impatiently and stomped her foot to emphasize the point.

The ground shook slightly, and birds stopped singing and took wing hastily from the nearby tree. A very fine crack appeared on the wall of the house and a bit of paint peeled off.

 _What the – !_

His hand shot forward, palm first, to slam into her chest and shove her away roughly. With a surprised yelp, she staggered back, and a split second later, Izuna was already standing a dozen feet away from her, sword unsheathed and ready to strike. Eyes narrowed and wary, he observed her through the Sharingan, debating if he should perhaps switch to the Mangekyo right away.

He would, only Sakura didn't attack. In fact, she wasn't really doing anything except look hurt and outraged at the same time.

Izuna bade himself to think very quickly.

 _What the hell was that just now..?_

She had channeled chakra into her legs, he had seen her do it. It was no bloodline limit, any shinobi was capable for that. Children learned that to be able to run up vertical surfaces and stand on water. But what set her apart was the speed and the fact that she had performed it so quickly and effortlessly, as if it came as naturally as breathing to her.

No, there was more to it.

He had been right in his earlier assumption – she didn't have much chakra, and something like this could never be mended. The was simply the way of life – some people were given a great big barrel and some received a tiny cup. The cup could only hold so much water, and having a roaring river nearby wouldn't change things. Sakura had a very limited capacity, true. But she had found a way to compensate for the chakra deficit in a way that was more than admirable.

The chakra control. He should have thought of it back when she had tried to punch him.

She knew she had to be economic so she had learned to make every little bit count. She must have trained very hard for this level of control and precision to become a habit. The concept was entirely alien to Izuna who had an ocean of chakra at his disposal and could afford to fling ninjutsu left and right for hours upon hours before he felt even vaguely uncomfortable.

It occurred to him, that she was likely much more focused and generally much more _aware_ of what she was doing than he had ever cared to be.

For the first time since he laid eyes on Sakura, Izuna felt something akin to grudging respect.

Not that it canceled out her weirdness and the fact that she had invaded his privacy. Not at all. It only meant that she was dangerous on top of crazy. He thought back to that punch she had nearly succeeded at landing and thanked all the gods he didn't believe in for the Sharingan.

He would have to be on his guard around her. Who knew what else she might be capable of.

Meanwhile, Sakura had already regained her balance as well as her gift of speech and shot him a withering glare. She stabbed a finger in his direction.

"Why did you have to hit me, you jerk?"

"You attacked me first. Did you expect me to stand by and do nothing?"

" _I_ attacked you? I did _not_ attack you! Hell, can you be more paranoid, I just don't know. I can see now that you're definitely Madara's brother, you just tell me who influenced who! I was asking you a question, that's all!"

Izuna bared his teeth at her. "Like hell you were just asking a question. I saw what you did with your chakra. And you were practically breathing in my face!"

"Oh come on! So I forgot my manners for a second there, good grief! I didn't lay a finger on your ugly mug or anything!"

"So what were you trying to do then, threaten me?"

"Why would I want to threaten you!?" Her face was red with anger. "I was nervous! I asked you a question and it was important! Like I told you, it's not like I can ask someone else!"

"You asked me how old you were, what kind of insane shit is that?" Izuna snarled.

"Well, didn't it occur to you that I might have a _reason_? Is your battle-crazy mind unable to deal with it or what? Why couldn't you just answer? Do you have to find fault with every little thing I say? _You_ were the one who lost it and attacked me the first time too! You know what, I'm so _tired_ of you."

Despite the mounting tension, Izuna felt compelled to point out the absurdity of her statement. "How can you be tired of me if we have only just met?"

"My point exactly! We have only just met and you've already driven me crazy! It must be a record or something, I mean, it's barely lunchtime. It's like you actually work on being insufferable."

Izuna made a quick assessment of the situation.

It was a century after his death, the Uchiha clan was no more, and he was standing in the middle of a street in a deserted ninja village once run by Hashirama Senju, having a row with a kunoichi who had horrible pink hair and was able to make the ground tremble when she went hysterical.

 _Yes, I'm doing just fine here,_ he thought morosely, _absolutely nothing to worry about._

He refocused on Sakura. "You look like you're twenty," he told her. "Happy now?"

It took her a moment to realize what he was talking about, to wrap her mind around the fact that he was finally answering her question. "Twenty? _Twenty?_ Are you sure?"

She sounded so urgent, almost desperate, and over something as trivial as her age too. She appeared to be concentrating hard, thinking about something only she knew, and he could see the shadows of her troubled thoughts chase each other across her features, and her lips moved as if she were muttering inaudibly under her breath – or was she actually counting the years of her life?

Resigned, Izuna sheathed the blade and deactivated the Sharingan. "I'm not sure. Maybe you're eighty-seven. In which case congratulations, you're so well-preserved. I don't know, Sakura. And I still think you've lost your mind."

She glowered half-heartedly. "You're the one to talk." And then, as if by magic, she deflated. "I think I've lost much more," she said, almost plaintively.

He blew an exasperated sigh. "And that would be...?"

"Several years of my _life._ And everyone's life. And that changes everything!" She swallowed hard, bit on her lower lip and then gave a small, helpless shrug that looked more like a nervous jerking of her shoulders.

She met his gaze and waited.

He wondered what kind of reaction she may be expecting. One moment she was ready to pounce on him, then she transformed into a shrieking banshee, and now she started spouting cryptic nonsense. She was as loony as they got.

Izuna folded his arms across his chest. "Now is the perfect time you told me your sob story, Sakura. Right from the start would be good."

To his immense surprise, she nodded eagerly. "Yes, I want you to know everything too."

She did? Since when? How was it even possible for one woman to have so many mood swings in such a short period of time?

"Why are you so cooperative all of a sudden?" he eyed her suspiciously. "What do you want from me?"

"It's not about you personally, don't go flattering yourself. I just want your opinion on something. And before you say you're not obligated to offer advice... You were so going to say that, weren't you?"

"Maybe," Izuna said with dignity. "You don't know that."

She rolled her eyes. "I can hazard a guess though. Well, how about you listen to my story first and then decide? Because I think it'll make you change your mind."

Izuna asked himself if he should feel insulted that she considered him predictable, but chose not to rise to the provocation, just in case she wanted him to.

"Fine," he told her.

"Let's go sit somewhere then. It's going to take us a long time. Um. I think. And I really, really don't have time..." She trailed off, then composed herself with obvious effort and shot him another pointed look.

Izuna felt the headache slam happily back into place. "In that case, it had better be somewhere with food," he bit out. He wasn't going to listen to her drone on for hours on an empty stomach.

Her face soured visibly. "Well, I hope we can find something," she promised before turning around and starting to walk back up the street.

After a moment's hesitation, he followed.

-/-

"Those clothes you're wearing, where did you get them?"

"In a store."

"So you stole them. You come to our village and the first thing you do is steal."

"If you want to put it like that, yes."

"You don't even deny it."

"Why bother?"

"And you broke into my friend's house."

"I did."

"And tried to kill me back then. For no reason at all.

"I had a reason. I thought it was an ambush."

"It was all in your head!"

"That's what counts. What's your point?"

"Ugh. No point. Just trying to understand what kind of person you are."

"Ah. Any luck?"

"I wish I didn't have to deal with you, that's all."

"Makes the two of us."

"And of course you picked a shirt with a high collar. Is it a clan rule or what?"

"Yes. The Uchiha Code of Conduct. An ancient scroll dating back nine hundred years."

"...I hope that was a joke. Right?"

-/-

"Why are we here, exactly?"

"Didn't you say you were hungry or something?"

"Hungry, not thirsty. You made _tea_."

"Well, no one forces it down your throat, you know. I made it for myself anyway. And you can eat those or starve."

-/-

"So you're saying that after my death Madara made a pact with the Senju."

"And what's wrong with that? People stopped dying. _Children_ stopped dying. Peace is always better than war."

"No. Not always."

"Oh please, not that war-mongering thing again... If it makes you feel any better, I think _Madara_ didn't want it. He was just like you. Or maybe it was because of you. But your other clansmen made him accept Hashirama's offer. So he just didn't really have a choice."

"You don't look fatalistic, Sakura, and yet in your stories no one has a choice. My brother had no choice but to accept the pact with the Senju, Itachi had no choice but to slaughter his family, and that other one, Obito, was it? Obito had no choice either because he was being manipulated. Are you sure your own world view is not the problem here?"

"That's rich, you're turning the tables on me again. Maybe the fact that they are all Uchiha should give you a hint. How much of a choice did _you_ have?"

-/-

"The Reanimation jutsu was invented by Tobirama?"

"Yes, he came up with it after Hashirama's death, I think..."

"Hm. Not surprising."

"Why?"

"Doesn't matter now. But serves him right. He invented it and then it was used on him."

"You're just bitter you didn't get to kill him!"

"Maybe I am. What of it? And this tastes awful, by the way. Are you trying to poison me?"

"Only to give you indigestion. A girl can dream."

-/-

"...so, well... That's about it, I guess. After I escaped from the World Tree, I headed for Konoha. And met you."

Across the table, Izuna swirled the tea in his cup pensively. "I imagine meeting me was a bit of a surprise for you," he said finally.

"That's putting it mildly. I thought everyone was asleep or dead. And then I saw you and thought you were Sasuke..." she tried to swallow the lump in her throat but it didn't want to disappear. It was so hard to talk around it, to breathe around it. She stared down at her nails because looking at Izuna's face was painful and made her feel as though she was betraying Sasuke somehow.

Gods, his face. _Sasuke_ 's face.

The memory of what she had done in the street came back with a vengeance, and Sakura wanted to curl into a little ball and die. Well, to pretend she was dead until he forgot about her and went away. What had made her think that practically throwing herself at him was something she should even consider doing? She had been so caught up in the truth she had discovered, that her brain must have switched off temporarily. And by the time she came back to her senses and realized how close to him she had come to stand, it had already been too late.

She remembered the way his eyes – his Sharingan – looked up close, entrancing and mesmerizing, the blazing red made up of a thousand different hues that seemed the same but weren't; and it was a little like falling and a little like flying through an endless tunnel toward something unknown and unseen, something beautiful waiting for her at the end of the journey; how she felt his terrible, inescapable pull and welcomed it, almost as if –

Sakura cringed inwardly. Horrible. Just horrible. Stupid Sharingan.

And then of course it had only gone downhill, and he had to act so full of himself and hit her and then she snapped at him and then they were yelling at each other. Well, she was yelling, anyway.

He had thought she was batshit insane, she had seen it quite plainly on his face. And oh gods, why, just why had she gone and showed him her ability? It would have been much better if he didn't know about her superhuman strength. Now catching him unawares was out of question.

Sakura felt like banging her head against the wall in frustration. How come she was so good at controlling the chakra flow and so bad at keeping her own emotions in check? Wasn't it all connected somehow? And she hadn't even noticed he was ready to lope her head off, which was just unacceptable.

She needed to do something – anything really – to stop herself from seeing Sasuke in Izuna. It was messing with her head, and she could hardly afford it now.

"You've mentioned that earlier as well." His calm voice drifted over to her across the vast ocean of embarrassment. "Do I really look that much like him?"

She forced herself to meet his gaze.

It felt surreal to sit with him like that at the same table, drinking tea and eating more of those crackers that were so awful they survived the Infinite Tsukuyomi. To realize she was actually discussing all that had happened with Madara's brother, of all people.

Madara's brother who had a personality to match Madara's.

And how was it even possible to have a fight to the death and a shouting match in the span of several hours and then still end up at the same table?

On the upside though, his snarky attitude aside, Izuna had turned out to be a surprisingly good listener. He hadn't interrupted her as much as she had been afraid he would, keeping the quantity of snide remarks to the bare minimum. In fact, by the time she was done explaining Obito's role in the whole ordeal, Sakura had come to realize that he only said anything at all when she got side-tracked. Apparently, it was his way to prevent her from wandering off too much.

He let her trudge painfully through the rocky landscape of her long story, sliding down certain slopes and drowning in occasional swamps as she tried simultaneously to squeeze in all the vital details and spare her own feelings because every time she spoke a name dear to her she was reminded of what had become of them all. She had done her best to stay professional – it was only because she needed his knowledge of the Uchiha genjutsu that she was telling him anything – but whether she had succeeded or not remained a mystery. Izuna had given no sign of impatience or frustration with the snail pace she'd set, had barely moved throughout the two and a half hours it had taken her to reach the end, and attempting to guess his thoughts on the matter was more futile than asking the sea to stop being wet.

Sakura was impressed. It was as if he had practiced active listening. He could go so silent she started to feel awkward unless she filled the void with words, so she had done exactly that, and now they were finally talking.

Talking about the end of the world. Talking about Sasuke. It was so strange she couldn't decide how she felt about it.

She smiled ruefully. "The way you look, you two could be twins. I have seen Madara, and you don't resemble him half as much as you resemble Sasuke. Or should I say that it's Sasuke who resembles you?"

He slid her a lazy, amused glance. "I do recall that you claimed I had an _ugly mug_ , as you so eloquently put it... So, if Sasuke looks as much like me as you insist he does, am I to assume that you're in love with a man whose face your consider ugly?"

"Haha," Sakura replied in a wooden voice. "Very droll. You just couldn't resist, could you?"

"There's no accounting for taste," He smirked, and she itched to break something. Like his nose, for example. "But yes, an interesting fact. I wonder why he looks like me and not like Madara, for that matter... Or an even better question, why doesn't he look like his father?"

He didn't sound terribly interested though. That was strange too. Hadn't she just told him the most improbable, unrealistic, bizarre story he'd ever heard, and one that featured his own brother as the villain who had brought about the end of all things?

And yet there he was, looking thoughtful and even somewhat listless, asking about Sasuke instead of Madara and drinking tea like it was the most natural thing in the world. Come to think of it, he hadn't brought up the subject of the Uchiha clan massacre again either, and neither did he look particularly devastated. She had been expecting him to brood and curse Konoha and maybe even try to take it out on her seeing how she was the only person around. She had been prepared to see him angry and miserable – it would have been a perfectly understandable reaction. People hurt when something precious was taken away from them. They blamed the world for being unfair. They got angry. It wasn't necessarily right but it was what being human was all about.

Basically, Sakura realized, she had expected Izuna to react like Sasuke. Or Madara.

And instead, he seemed to have lapsed into apathy. She couldn't fathom what was going on in that head of his.

Not that she wanted him to rage and destroy, of course. But it was such an uncharacteristic behavior that it unsettled her a bit, even if his lighter mood suited her interests much better.

"Yeah, you two look so alike, it's unbelievable," she told him out loud, and then added half-jokingly, "You didn't have any children, did you?"

To her eternal dismay, he seemed to consider the notion seriously. "None that I know of."

"None that you know of? How can you _not_ know it when you have a child?"

Izuna looked amused. "I traveled a lot, Sakura. Sometimes quite far away. However, the point is moot regardless. Even supposing I fathered some kids along the way, they all remained with their mothers in distant places, and your Sasuke was born into the clan, with both parents being our shinobi as well. I dare say things like that are bound to happen within the same bloodline sooner or later, after all, we're all descendants of the same man, the founder of the clan..," He gave a sudden short laugh. "Nice theory, though. You have quite the imagination. Tell me, how would it make you feel if I was his great-grandfather?"

 _He's really enjoying it, isn't he?_

"Oh, I don't know," she said airily. "In my line of work, I don't get to meet a lot of people as ancient as you, so I guess I would inquire about your blood pressure and ask if you needed help walking."

Something that looked almost like respect flickered in his eyes. "It's good that we're not related then. It would be such a nuisance. Speaking of ancient people though," he placed the empty cup on the table and sent her a cold smile, "what was all that about your age? If that story you told me is true, and I'm inclined to believe it is, you've chosen an odd time to worry about your looks, don't you think?"

That was what he thought she was doing? Worrying about her looks? Or was he just messing with her again?

"Of course, I wasn't worried about that," she replied irritably. "I was checking if my guess was right, and you just happened to be the only human being available to me."

"Your guess," Izuna said flatly. He didn't phrase it as a question, which, as Sakura was coming to understand, was apparently his personal way of making people feel small and stupid.

She ignored his attitude and concentrated. It was important to find the right words or else she would look like an idiot, and she needed him to take her seriously. She wanted to hear a real opinion of a Sharingan user, not another witty remark.

"You see," she began hesitantly, "when I woke up from the Infinite Tsukuyomi, I just sort of assumed that very little time had passed. I didn't really think about it, alright, because the Tree was trying to kill me, but that's what it was. And then I saw my own reflection, and it was wrong."

"Wrong."

"Older," she said. "I mean... Normally, you don't notice how you change and how you age because it's a permanent process, right? It's slow. It's not like you get out of bed one day, and bang! – you're old."

"I suppose not." He was looking at her with curiosity, head tilted slightly. "But you're not _old_ , Sakura. You're twenty, twenty-one at most. That's younger than me."

"Well, yes," she said tersely, "but I'm supposed to be seventeen. I was barely seventeen when your brother put us to sleep."

That made him pause. His expression didn't change, but his eyes explored her face slowly, lingering over every line and every feature. Sakura resisted the urge to squirm under his gaze, so intense that it felt almost like a physical touch. She forced herself to remain calm and motionless, waiting patiently for him to make his own conclusions. This was more important than ten seconds of her discomfort.

"No," he sentenced finally, "you don't look seventeen."

Sakura wondered if she should rejoice that she had been right or bemoan the fact instead. "You could be mistaken though," she said.

Izuna scoffed. "I certainly could. I only met you this morning. But you're the one who thought your face in the mirror was wrong."

She nodded. "Then do you think it possible that... that actually I slept for several years in the Tsukuyomi? Because I just can't bring myself to believe it."

"It's possible. Theoretically at least."

"What do you mean ' _theoretically_ '? Can you elaborate a little?" She frowned at him unhappily. "How can it be that I slept for two or three or I don't know how many years and didn't feel any different when I woke up? And if so much time has passed, does it mean that my friends are all – " she drew a shaky breath and plunged on, as if jumping from a high cliff into cold, dark water. "... all dead already? And why did I wake up at all?"

 _What if I'm too late already?_

"As for why you woke up, I cannot say," Izuna shrugged and reached for the teapot. "I can think of various reasons but there's not enough evidence to support one specific theory and eliminate all others. But I don't know why you find it unlikely that you might have spent several years in the Tsukuyomi my brother called 'infinite'. Did you think it was a joke?" He finished pouring tea, leaned back in his seat, a cup in one hand, and gestured vaguely with the other. "And time is a relative concept anyway, especially inside a genjutsu. If you're good enough, you can make a second last a thousand years and vice versa; the Sharingan at least allows to do it. You said you had a dream while you slept, didn't you? Like Madara promised?"

Sakura shifted nervously in her seat. She had hoped to avoid that topic, or at the very least she abhorred the idea of telling Izuna about her fantasy life with Sasuke. Especially after she had so conveniently informed him about their near identical appearance.

"I did," she said. _Don't let him ask any questions!_

"How much time passed inside the dream?"

She eyed him warily. "Inside? About fifteen years, I think."

"Fifteen?" Izuna perked up suddenly, leaning in across the table with an air of fascination. "Really? You lived a whole of fifteen years in a straight line? As if in real life?"

"Eh, yes? I think it's fifteen, because..." she floundered a little, then finished lamely. "because it took me two or three years to marry and then my daughter was, I think, twelve by the time I woke up. It's a bit hazy now though."

If Izuna had noticed her inner turmoil, he paid it no mind, and luckily he didn't deign to comment on her boring, cliche version of a happy life either. Sakura wasn't even sure why she was ashamed of her dream. It just seemed... shallow, for some reason. Shallow and so very girly. It was as if admitting that it was what she wanted out of life canceled out all her achievements as a kunoichi, all her hard work and sacrifices and selfless acts.

Madara's genjutsu didn't lie, did it? It showed every person what they desired, nothing else. So did it mean she just wished to be a wife and a mother, and that was it? Sure, inside the dream she had continued to work at the hospital and sometimes she would be assigned a mission, and she trained quite diligently so she was always ready for action, but the action itself never came. And if it never came in the Tsukuyomi it must mean that she wanted to avoid it.

Her wonderful dream was a life of pleasant routine and no adventure.

Sakura felt suddenly very angry – with herself, for turning out to be such an ordinary, boring person, with Madara for making her aware of it and, of course, with Izuna for acting all nonchalant about the situation even though she had told him his brother was basically a mass murderer. At the very least, he could have found the decency to look a little distressed!

"...not listening to me at all, are you, Sakura?"

Sakura snapped out of her gloomy reverie and it dawned on her that she had missed whatever it was he'd just said.

"Reminiscing about something pleasant?" Izuna asked mildly. She saw one corner of his lips curl up in a smirk.

Her urge to apologize for the lack of good manners evaporated immediately. He was making it really hard not to dislike him.

"Sorry," she ground out. "You were saying?"

To her surprise, he didn't appear irritated at the need to repeat himself. If anything, he looked more relaxed now that he had heard her story than before, which was disquieting and made Sakura question his sanity and his motives again.

"I was saying that you should look at the big picture, not get stuck in your own head."

"You're not being helpful at all, you know that?"

"Whether I'm helpful or not is neither here nor there." Izuna paused briefly, black eyes unreadable. "Fine. Put it like that... The jutsu Madara called Infinite Tsukuyomi and the emergence of the World Tree together are indispensable for his Moon's Eye Plan. He had to cast both because neither jutsu is any use to him all by itself. The Infinite Tsukuyomi only puts people to sleep, and even if they can't awaken on their own it's only a genjutsu and in theory it can be dispelled. If it happens, they will all wake up, unless, of course, their bodies are destroyed. And the World Tree is useless unless people are asleep because otherwise they will just fight it. That much is clear, I suppose?"

"Sure," Sakura was all ears, even forgetting to take offense at his somewhat contemptuous tone. "So it _can_ be dispelled, right?"

Izuna raised a hand. "You're being hasty. But to answer your question, anything that can be done, can also be undone. If you know the right way to do it, that is. That's simply the nature of the world. However, you may not know the right way, or you may be unable to use it even if you know, or the sacrifices it requires may be too great," A shadow passed over his face, and for a moment he seemed to be impossibly far away, in a place she knew nothing about. Then it was gone and he continued calmly. "If, like you told me, my brother's supreme goal was to eliminate even the smallest possibility of suffering, he would have to think of a way to wipe out the entire population of the earth. Obviously. Because to live is to suffer."

Sakura found nothing obvious about murdering who knew how many people, eradicating _all life on the planet_ , and the way he had said it, in that dry, indifferent tone made it worse somehow. Perhaps the reason was that she hadn't really had any time to analyze Madara's actions properly, what with all the fighting and running. And now Izuna was doing it for her, and she was suddenly feeling slightly queasy, as if his every word became ice in her blood. The sheer scale of what Madara had done loomed over her, overshadowing the horizon, draining her of all confidence.

 _How am I supposed to undo that? Can I even do anything at all? Where do I begin?_

Oblivious to her distress, Izuna went on.

"That being said, even Madara would be unable to kill every living creature in existence, because no matter how powerful he has become, he is still only one man, and the world is a rather big place. So you should be able to see why the World Tree was necessary. Its roots ensnare and suck chakra out of everyone, and with it, the life force. The amount of chakra each of us possesses is different, but one thing is the same – it's a finite resource. In other words, as soon as the last person runs out of chakra, the world can be considered dead, and my brother wins. Which is where I can finally address your question –"

In her abyss of despair, Sakura blinked. She had asked a question? Oh yes...

"If the Infinite Tsukuyomi is infinite in the sense that your dream lasts until you die and all the while it's a happy dream, then it would be natural to assume that each person gets to live his or her entire life _all the way until the end_ , only inside the genjutsu; and their dream life reaches… a happy ending, I suppose I should call it, the very same moment the Tree drinks up the last of their chakra. It should be a synchronized process. Most people wish for a long life. Would you like to live a long happy life, Sakura?"

"Yeah, of course I would, just not inside the Tsukuyomi!" Sakura frowned. What kind of question was that? It was becoming increasingly hard to follow his logic.

He flashed her a cruel little smile. "Just a bit more. Make an effort, will you?"

 _Does he think I'm dumb?_ she fumed inwardly, quite indignant. _Gods, but I do feel dumb, don't I? It must be exhaustion catching up with me..._

"Let's go with the assumption that three years passed here in the real world, while in your dream you got to enjoy fifteen years of happiness," His smile turned into a crooked grin. "That would make you thirty-something years old in you dream by the moment you woke up. In other words, since you would like to live long, you probably had several more decades of dream life ahead of you. In real world, it would amount to several more years. Six or seven, perhaps. Are you still with me?"

Sakura gave him a bleary-eyed look and decided not to bother pretending. "Only partially. Just _please_ don't rub it in."

Again, there was a flicker of _something_ in his gaze, so quick it was almost imperceptible. Slowly, Sakura was coming to fully appreciate the fact that she had managed to stumble upon a wholly new brand of Uchiha shinobi – a volatile and unpredictable one. She just couldn't spare any brainpower to invest in that project at the moment.

Izuna drummed his fingers on the table absent-mindedly as he observed her and said nothing for a short while. A suspicion crept up on Sakura that maybe he was not going to continue at all. Wouldn't it be just like him to dangle the information in front of her nose and withdraw precisely when she reached out to grab it?

She stared at his hands, noting how they looked so much like Sasuke's – elegant, with long, nimble fingers – and listened to the anger bubble its way up her throat.

"If your remaining life span depends on the amount of chakra you possess, than the more chakra you have, the longer you get to live," Izuna said simply. His voice was almost gentle.

Sakura raised her eyes to his face, disconcerted, and saw no trace of malice there. Were it someone else, she would probably say they felt sorry for her.

Then she _understood –_

"But then it means..." _Let it be true, or please please PLEASE let it be the truth, let it be what he meant –_

"Yes. Your chakra reserves are very average, Sakura. But you were able to hold out for two or three years and still had something left in you. That you woke up depleted doesn't mean anything, that's just the chakra you use to fight, not your actual life force. Those who have less or close to nothing – civilians, for example, yes? – they are likely dead. Those who have a lot of chakra are in no _immediate_ danger. From what you've told me about your friends, they should be fine. Relatively fine, anyway." He looked away, out of the window, where the sun had moved up in the sky and the shadows had shortened, and shrugged. "Unless Madara killed them personally, that is."

-/-

* * *

 _(to be continued)_

* * *

A/N: ...and this chapter can be called _Ode To Dialogue._ hence its abominable length _._ In truth, it's an allusion to an actual book - _Women, Fire, and Dangerous Things_ by George Lakoff. I don't really recommend you read it unless you're interested in cognitive linguistics though XD

Anyway, finally they are getting somewhere! And you guys don't have to worry - Sakura will get all kinds of opportunities to be awesome, and we'll obviously see her fight too. I'm looking forward to writing it myself, but well, it's turned out to be a looong story, so all in its time.

And yup, she had a pretty long nap, too, didn't she?

Please let me know what you think! I love your reviews, you know that. XD


	9. Last Lullaby at Sundown

**Chapter 8**

 _(last lullaby at sundown)_

-/-

 _Stars flicker and go out.  
Men in the dark decay.  
In my heart and everywhere  
See the dark take sway._

 _Everyone prays for the light._  
 _Their lips rot as they pray._  
 _This is a tired old tale_  
 _Repeated every which way._

 **\- Haim Nachman Bialik** , _Stars Flicker_

-/-

It was a quiet summer afternoon in Konoha. The empty, cloudless sky bleached almost white by the sun was stretched taut over the village and the surrounding forests. A lonely hawk was circling high above the Hokage Tower, gliding slowly on outspread wings as it waited for prey to make an appearance.

In the streets below, trees rustled and birds whistled among the branches, and a grumpy Sakura was propelling herself toward the next random house to continue making an inventory of holes. She had been at it for the last four hours and had lost count somewhere along the way, but she thought it might be the twelfth place she'd barged in.

On the bright side, she no longer felt guilty for breaking into other people's property and dragging dirt all over their floors. No one was around to reprimand her or get upset anyway, so that was a good thing, right?

Sakura gave the door a chakra-powered push and it flew open with a loud _bang_ to let her in.

She marched inside, features drawn into an expression of barely contained irritation, and sure enough, there was the wrecked hallway, shards of a broken mirror, a forlorn sandal and the friendly open maw of yet another hole left by the roots of the World Tree. Sakura shot it a dark look but didn't bother to investigate further.

Instead, she exited the house, shut the door, and lowered herself tiredly to sit on the porch. A couple of benches were just opposite of her, near the wall on the other side of the street, but it was cooler here due to the shadow of a great old tree growing just beside the porch. As she raised her head, she could marvel at its thick, knotty branches reaching out in all directions, knocking on the windows of the house, shedding an occasional leaf.

She propped her elbows on her knees and huffed very loudly just in case someone – the fate, the universe or Izuna Uchiha – was nearby and eager to learn more about the source of her displeasure, but the only response she got was the panicked coughing of a bird directly above her head.

 _Oh sure, why don't you go ahead and do it_ , she urged the bird silently, _cause the one thing I need right now is to be shat upon!_

She buried her face in her hands and felt just how tense she had been this entire time, like a string ready to snap. She forced her body to relax and tried to make sense of what she had learned.

For example, she had learned that Izuna was a man without pity. Only someone truly heartless could send an exhausted, desolate person to walk around in the baking sun, counting holes.

And they had been doing so well, too.

She had been so happy, so excited to find out that all hope was not lost and there could still be a chance, however slim, to recover some of her normal life, to rescue her precious friends; she had felt so full of light and almost ready to fly... And then of course he had decided to go and rain on her parade.

"There is something I'd like you to see," he had told her.

"Oh? Well, sure, show me then. What is it?"

"Go outside and have a look around. Pick any house you like and enter. Maybe you'll find something interesting in there."

"Interesting? Like what?"

"Go and see for yourself, why don't you? Visit ten different houses, then come back and we'll talk."

She had stared at him in dismay. "I take it you already saw that something? Can't you just tell me?"

Izuna had given her an infuriatingly condescending look. "If I do, you will never know if I lied or withheld information from you, and I have no desire to deal with your suspicious glaring, Sakura. Not if I can avoid it so easily. Besides, there's one more reason."

"You actually have more reasons to ask me to go and break into someone's home!?"

"Ten homes, remember? Try to think if there is a pattern to what you find. I can't see it, but perhaps you will. It's your beloved village, after all."

"And what are _you_ going to do?"

He had smirked. "Don't worry about me. I won't get bored."

Sakura had stormed away in a fit of rage, mostly because he was right – she didn't trust him, didn't really know him at all, and in any case, seeing whatever it was with her own eyes was certainly preferable to being told about it. But she still hated the way he had made it look like he could send her on an errand, which he absolutely could _not_.

Most of her emotions had left her as soon as she encountered the first sign of the presence of the World Tree though. Looking at the debris, she had felt sick and desperate again, which was irrational, because hadn't she spent several years ensnared by the roots herself? She should have been prepared to find anything, even half-dead people dreaming their lives away in Madara's genjutsu. She had seen them on the battlefield after she woke up, so why should the village be any different? An empty, if destroyed, room should have come as a relief.

But in the end, she still hadn't been ready.

It _was_ different. It was her home.

Only then had she come to realize that seeing really was believing. Until she found the proof that her home had been invaded too, in her heart of hearts she must have refused to acknowledge it, must have hoped against all hope that Konoha would be spared somehow, would remain untouched by the wrath of the man who had once thought he could belong here. Finding out that it was not the case had made her feel like she had been dropped in middle of the sea with no shore on the horizon.

Willing herself to remain calm and remember her mission, Sakura had inspected every corner and every splinter, and attempted to crawl inside the tunnel left by the root but it had narrowed quickly forcing her to spend several very uncomfortable minutes trying to wriggle out of the hole backwards. She couldn't really say why she had considered it a worthy course of action to follow. It wasn't like she had expected to find an apologetic note from Madara with detailed instructions on how to revive everyone and return the world back to normal. And what would she have done if the root had still been there, lying in wait? She would have had no way to defend herself _or_ escape.

She had left the place, distraught and unhappy, unable to find anything of importance.

...And here she was now, sitting on a porch, an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach, a bird getting ready to poop on her head, and an inkling that Izuna had been right; there was a pattern.

If only she could understand what it was.

Sakura massaged her temples tiredly. Hell, it was the same as when she had tried to recall where she had heard his name. The knowledge was there, only for some reason she couldn't reach it when she needed it. It kept slipping away – but why?

She knew she was neither stupid nor slow. She had always been proud of her ability to think quickly and make decisions, and it had saved the lives of many wounded shinobi in her care. She had always been eager to learn new things too. She may not have Naruto's prodigious ability to turn stubbornness into a victory by sheer force of will or Sasuke's natural talent in every ninja art in existence, but she was intelligent, resilient and brave. She would never give up, no matter what unsurmountable odds she faced. What had happened to her? She hadn't been herself since she had woken up from the Infinite Tsukuyomi. Was it because of the pressure of what she had taken upon herself to do?

A shiver ran down her spine and her eyes flew open, horrified.

What if the Tsukuyomi had done something to her head? She had spent several years with her mind inside the illusion cast by a man half-mad with rage and regret; no way that could have been a healthy experience.

Another thought struck her. Maybe it was because of that other jutsu Izuna had used on her? He had claimed it was _just his normal mind control_ – hell yeah, that could only be harmless! – but it had felt worse that anything else she could recall at the moment.

Sakura stared ahead of her blankly. The Uchiha and their Sharingan. What had she done to deserve them?And how could she verify her guess anyway? Except ask Izuna, obviously, because that would go so well.

" _Listen, Izuna, would you mind telling me – did you really drive me insane? Something funny is going on inside my mind."_

" _Why, Sakura, I'm glad you noticed. I was beginning to wonder if perhaps there was no difference in your case. What a relief."_

Ugh! She could actually see such an exchange taking place!

Alright, that was leading nowhere. She had to stay rational and keep a clear head, which was so hard mostly because all the unfinished thoughts had got so terribly entangled and intertwined, their ends and beginnings hopelessly lost so that if she tried to unravel even a single thread, all the other ones wrapped around her and pulled her inevitably in a thousand different directions, right back into the chaos and disorder she wanted to emerge from. The more she added to the heap, the more crowded it became inside her skull. Of course she couldn't stay focused. She was practically drowning.

She envied Izuna his cold, analytical mind and ability to remain detached from his own emotions, whatever they were. She would benefit from something like that now. She wondered what it felt like being him.

On the other hand though, her feelings were her world and her lifeline, they made her, well, _her_. They had given her the determination to fight and grow and pull through even in the hardest of times. They had brought her all the way to the place where she was – _geez, fantastic example_ , said her inner voice sarcastically – and would she truly agree to trade her compassion and love for a chance to see the bigger picture, as Izuna had put it?

Her feelings were her strength. Without them, what was she? And even supposing she could become more like him... maybe she would be able to formulate a better plan, but would she really proceed with it? Or would she just kick back in her chair, pull an arrogant face, and start to weave elaborate theories without doing anything to turn them into practice? Izuna had looked like he didn't give a damn about what she had told him – Sakura found it mind-boggling and surreal. How could he turn his back on the destruction of the world and just sit on the ruins sipping tea? Was it some supreme, hitherto unheard of form of self-control or did he honestly not care? She was at a loss.

But more importantly, she knew that unlike him, she did care. She cared with all her heart, she would do anything to reverse Madara's plan. She believed it was the duty of anyone who was still alive and awake, which, in this particular case, was her alone.

She didn't want to stop caring because that would be renouncing herself.

There was a soft _smack!_ as something landed on her shoulder. Sakura glared up into the mass of leaves, all existential angst promptly forgotten.

The bird had done its evil deed.

Oddly, she felt much better. In fact, it seemed that finally the fragments and pieces were coming together in her head.

-/-

Shielding his eyes from the sun with a hand, Izuna watched the third duck gain height and disappear hastily behind treetops.

 _Don't forget to come back tomorrow_ , he bade it silently, then looked down to where its less lucky relative was thrashing madly in his grip, flapping its wings as it tried to break free. He snapped its neck with one quick movement and dropped it down to the ground. Another bird was already waiting there patiently, eager to become a proper meal.

Good. Because he was not eating that dry tasteless stuff Sakura had given him ever again. Not until he ran out of ducks and rabbits, anyway. If those future people really consumed that kind of food everyday he could only sympathize with their miserable lot in life.

Not that it made a difference though, since according to Sakura, none of them would ever be digesting anything again, whatever the quality. Izuna abandoned the ducks and strolled closer to the nearby river that glistened silver under the sun.

It was rather narrow and seemingly shallow, at least here in Konoha, with clear, transparent water flowing peacefully and silently before his gaze. Dragonflies buzzed above its surface, bright wings sparkling, and the air moved and rippled slightly in the heat. Closer to the bottom, the darker silhouettes of the fish darted swiftly here and there. Off to his left, a frog croaked questioningly, then another answered further along the bank. The tall grass rustled and swayed gently in the breeze, and cicadas sang, invisible and omnipresent.

It was the sort of timeless place that appeared to be suspended between now and then, between the past and the future; a place where it was so easy to wish you could stay forever and let the rest of the world pass you by while you lay in the grass and slept and fell into the endless sky above.

A good place for _not_ thinking about anything. Just what he needed.

Izuna crouched and dipped his hand into the water. It was warm – as well it might be in the middle of the summer. The sand on the bottom of the river looked golden.

Madara was alive...

Somewhere in this lifeless world, among the dead and the dying and cities crumbling slowly to dust, his brother was still alive after one hundred years of fighting. Alive _again_.

Like Izuna himself.

What on earth was he supposed to do with this information? Should he go search for Madara? He had a few ideas as to where his brother might be, which of course didn't automatically mean he would find him there. He could be mistaken.

Izuna didn't remember anything about being dead, and a mere couple of days had passed for him since they had fought together against the Senju; but for Madara, it had been many decades of struggling, losing and dying, and coming back to win the prize he had apparently desired for years. To add insult to injury, he had dragged himself through it all alone, and Madara had never been a fan of long periods of forced solitude. He loved to talk, he loved to fight, and if he could combine the two things he couldn't be happier. Long solitary missions he had occasionally undertaken before he became the head of the clan would invariably put him into a sullen, exasperated mood. And, Izuna suspected, he quite sincerely liked people – albeit in a bossy, overbearing sort of way. He enjoyed telling them what to do.

That was why the two of them had split the duties the way they had as soon as Madara was appointed clan leader. Izuna liked working alone. Like Madara, he was capable of pulling off complicated tasks all by himself, he had the patience for certain types of job that Madara lacked and had never cared to acquire, and he had nothing against silence.

No one had questioned their decision and the arrangement had worked swimmingly.

Well, those had been the days. He supposed he could only reminisce about them now that he was here in the future and the Uchiha clan was gone.

Izuna wasn't naive. The person he would meet if he went looking for his brother might not be the Madara he used to know. It might be someone else entirely, and not necessarily someone he wanted to get acquainted with. The Madara he used to know would not have wanted for the world to slumber in a never-ending illusion until it was sucked dry. If anything, he would have wanted to change it and remake it into a happier place – a sentiment of his that they had rarely discussed and one that Izuna didn't really share due to his cynicism, but it had been the reason Madara had once been friends with Hashirama Senju. But he must have cast it all away during the following years, and who could blame him?

How much of his brother was left in that man who had lived to finally triumph? And the main question was – did he really want to find out?

He had no ready answer for it.

On the other hand though, could he really go on about his business – what business, by the way? there wasn't anyone left to employ him – content with knowing that Madara was still around somewhere but not bothering to meet him? That didn't sound particularly plausible.

Izuna plunged his hand deeper into the water, burying it in the sand all the way up the wrist. The water gurgled softly and turned murky. A green dragonfly zipped past, nearly brushing his hair.

 _I'm just no good at this not thinking thing._

He pulled his hand out and stood up. He'd been here by the river for quite some time and had forgotten all about Sakura. She must be looking for him, probably getting all worked up, impatient as she was. He wondered if she had managed to find anything he had missed.

Or maybe she had already gone home to rest. That was what he would have done in her place.

Izuna picked the dead ducks from the ground by the legs and walked slowly away from the river, back toward the Senju monument. Whatever had possessed the villagers to carve those faces up there? Who would feel happy living under Tobirama's watchful gaze?

He couldn't decide if he wanted to see Sakura or not. He appeared to have reached a temporary impasse in his cognitive process, and she would prove a welcome distraction. That was good. But she was also so tiresome and loud and prone to unexpected emotional outbursts. That was bad.

The wind had died down completely, and the air was hot and static, the sun beating down mercilessly. Izuna wiped the sweat from his face with a sleeve and hoped a great big thunderstorm would come soon. A really long rain. The longer, the better.

He was approaching the main street when there was a sound like a wild boar crashing through the undergrowth and Sakura's disheveled head poked out of the decorative bushes on his right. There was a small leaf stuck to her forehead, but contrary to his earlier expectations, she looked only slightly disgruntled.

"Took you long enough," she greeted him grumpily.

"What an amazing display of stealth," Izuna replied sarcastically.

"Haha, funny guy. If you really must know, I just didn't want you to freak out. Where have you been? I was looking for you all over the place."

Izuna thrust out his arm and shoved the ducks under her nose wordlessly.

"Huh!?"

"Dinner," he said laconically.

"Where did you get them?"

"By the river. The third one got away."

She emerged from the bushes and looked at him suspiciously. "Do you expect me to cook them for you or what?"

Izuna raised an eyebrow. "In your dreams. I wouldn't trust you with food."

"Why, think I'm not good enough?" She seemed offended.

"No. I think you might want to poison me."

"You really are paranoid, aren't you? I've got no reason to do that. And you had no qualms eating the rice crackers with me, remember?"

"Those horrible things? Where was rice in them? And I'm not eating them again. Regardless, I only trusted you because you obviously wanted me alive to tell you about the Tsukuyomi, and I already did. What do you want now?"

Sakura scratched her cheek, fingernails leaving faint red marks on her skin. In the shadows, her green eyes seemed to shimmer and change color. "Still the same thing, so you can stop suspecting me of murderous intentions," she sighed. "I have more questions." She eyed the ducks again. "How do you plan to cook them? The electricity is all gone..."

Izuna wasn't sure what she meant by it and decided he didn't care. Why care about something that was already gone? "That's what Fire Style ninjutsu is for, Sakura."

"I can't believe it. _This_ is the reason why it's come to be known as your clan's signature elemental jutsu? I used to have all sorts of fancy poetic theories and you lot just like to roast things? Wait, don't tell me... You gut them with a kunai and use your sword as a spit, right?"

"Yes, what's wrong with that?"

"Nothing, just envying your awesome survival skills. You'll need them soon, cause the civilization is not coming back." She shook her head and added slyly. "Not that you would care, right? You come from a time when there was no real civilization, so that must feel pretty much like home to you."

"We had plenty of civilization," Izuna snapped irritably. She _was_ annoying. The leaf on her forehead was annoying. It would be so much better without her. "Anyway, what were you doing sitting in a bush?"

"I couldn't find you and I was tired, so I went into that garden to rest and wait for you to show up. There's a nice ornamental pond there, it's part of the Hyuuga clan district and they like... liked these traditional things."

So the Hyuuga clan was part of Konoha too? Izuna chose to say nothing but felt a little down in the dumps nonetheless. It was as if the world had conspired to constantly remind him of how grand and successful Hashirama's idea of unity had turned out to be.

He shrugged. "I see. That's good to know."

She frowned at him. "Why?"

"Because it's a perfect place to eat duck. Climb back into that bush."

-/-

She had decided she had nothing to lose. He had already seen her ability, so it was useless to pretend she didn't have it. Besides, she was hungry.

Sakura had channeled chakra into her hands and crushed one of the smaller trees in the Hyuuga garden to splinters. Then she had carried them over to an open patch of grass and dropped them down. Izuna had watched her performance with a perfectly blank expression.

Sakura had straightened up and beamed at him. "How about that – I give you wood for the fire, and you roast me a duck?"

"Seems reasonable. And then you start asking questions, and I get what?"

"A headache?" she had grinned sheepishly.

"Precisely."

But luckily he had left it at that, and now she was sitting on a tree stump, having the dubious privilege of watching him prepare the meal. He had rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, sat down on the grass cross-legged, and – true to his word – proceeded to pluck the birds of the feathers, then pulled out a kunai to cut them open expertly, extracted the entrails and chopped off all the other unnecessary bits. Technically, a kunai was not the ideal tool for that, but Izuna still managed to make it look almost cool.

 _Must be the Uchiha charisma at work_ , Sakura thought, a little dazed. His hands moved so fast she could barely follow, but his face remained as impassive as before. She could only presume he'd had a lot of practice.

A little voice inside her mind suggested that maybe he wore the same expression when he chopped off heads. He must have had a lot of practice in that department as well. She instructed the voice to shut up unless it had something useful to say.

"You have gone uncharacteristically quiet," Izuna said in a conversational tone and flicked away some of the parts the ducks were no longer going to need.

Sakura scrunched up her face. "Just wondering... looks like you've done this before many times."

"That's because I have. Unlike you."

So she had been right. Inwardly, Sakura patted herself on the head for not trying to compete with him in duck roasting. And now that she came to think of it, even in the Infinite Tsukuyomi, which was supposed to be a dream of perfect joy, her cooking skills had sucked big time. Hell, her illusionary daughter didn't want to eat her illusionary omelet – what other evidence did she need? Trying to outcook a shinobi from the Warring Times would just result in a fiasco. Well, naturally, she would try to show him what was what if she still had electricity and full access to normal ingredients, but not this thing.

"What do you eat when you're away from your village?" Izuna asked, not looking up from his bloody handiwork. "Flowers? Tree bark? Or do you starve?"

"Why would I starve? If we camp out, we eat canned food, it's packed compactly and doesn't weigh much, very convenient... I guess, in your time, it hasn't been invented yet. And personally, I like to eat at roadside inns and restaurants. If the mission allows for it, of course. But usually it's not a problem, you just give a false name and some sort of legend if they ask you. This way you get to try new dishes and you can gather information there too, so that's actually an advantage..."

"Hm."

Sakura picked up a twig and twirled it between her fingers. "You've mentioned you traveled a lot."

"I did."

"Alone?" Why was she even asking him that? It was just that she couldn't bring herself to start discussing the end of the world again, and sitting in silence would make her feel awkward even if Izuna was perfectly fine with it. Which he probably was. He seemed the type.

Like Sasuke.

"Mostly, yes."

"Why? What did you do there?"

"Clan business," Izuna replied curtly. He held out the result of his work at arm's length and clicked his tongue. "Would be better to drain the excess blood, but it takes time and I'm too hungry... Oh well."

"You just don't want to talk about it, do you?" Sakura shifted slightly, making herself more comfortable. She chose to ignore the blood removal comment because soon enough she was planning to eat what he cooked. Blood was all very fine on the battlefield and she wished it could stay there.

"There's nothing to say. I did many things, all for the clan." There was a tone to his voice that warned her in no uncertain terms not to inquire any further.

It only served to make her curious, of course, but she decided to drop the subject while he was still feeling good-natured, at least by his own standards. "I just thought maybe you'd tell me a funny story about faraway places."

Izuna slid her a sidelong look. "Alright. I have one just for you. I have once been to a faraway place where people believed that being shat upon by a migratory bird brought luck and prosperity..."

"You jerk!" Her hand flew to her shoulder where the stain remained obvious despite her valiant efforts to wash it away.

He smirked faintly, and blew a small fire into existence. She wasn't even sure if he had formed any seals. It spread quickly to envelop the wood she had brought. He drew his katana, and the flame reflected off the long, gleaming blade, suddenly bright in the shadowy garden overhung by ancient trees. In a kind of awe, Sakura watched him skewer both ducks onto the sword.

"Get over here."

"What? Why?" But she was already scooting closer, curious as to what he wanted.

"Hold this." Before she had a chance to open her mouth, he thrust the hilt of the sword into her hands, and, in one fluid motion, got to his feet.

"Hey! I'm really bad at cooking meat!"

"Yes, I understood that much. Bear with it for a moment," Izuna held up a hand covered in blood and other bits the ducks probably used to hold very dear, then turned away from her and crossed over to the pond.

As if hypnotized, Sakura watched the water turn almost black as he bent down and washed his hands clean.

 _Maybe Hinata liked to come to this pond to dream about Naruto and watch carps chase each other, didn't she tell me about it once? And now Hinata is dying away from home, and her carps are gone, and maybe they ate each other, and the water has gone green – ugh, he doesn't even care! – and I'm sitting here with Madara's brother, drooling all over the ducks he probably caught with his Sharingan. Worse, I'm actually feeling pretty good about it all, and I shouldn't._

She startled when Izuna took the improvised spit out of her fingers and settled down on the grass again. He held the meat over the fire.

"Well?" he prompted with an air of resignation. "You can ask your questions now, or else you will spoil my meal later. What else do you want to know?"

Sakura looked at him carefully over the leaping flames. "You didn't even ask me to tell you what I'd found today while you were killing ducks."

"You're going to tell me anyway, so why bother? Or do you just need to hear the question from me?"

Did she? Sakura's brows knitted together as she processed his words, and – to her own dismay – she realized that he was right. If he asked her, she would feel comfortable talking about it because he wanted to know, and if he didn't she wouldn't be able to stop thinking he was barely tolerating her presence.

She pursed her lips. "Apparently I do. Would it really kill you to ask?"

"No. Sakura, what did you find today while I was killing ducks?"

"Holes. They were made by the roots of the Tree, I'm sure. And you were right, there's a pattern, and I think I know what it is. It's actually very simple and obvious."

"Tell me then."

Sakura stared into the fire. "I went to check out some of my friends' houses and they were fine. That's because my friends are shinobi and so they all went to fight, same as me. There was no one at home when the Tsukuyomi was cast. But the civilians and the wounded, and the old people, and kids, they stayed here. So..."

"I see," Izuna said calmly. He rotated the sword a bit. "That makes sense. And since those people didn't have much chakra, they died quickly, and the roots retracted. It should also be proof enough that the Tree really can reach anywhere, like Madara told you."

His words, spoken in that emotionless, matter-of-fact tone again, dropped into her heart like a stone into the water. So she wouldn't be saving everyone, would she? Not even everyone in Konoha. Again, she knew she shouldn't be surprised, but it still hurt and unbalanced her.

Even if she dispelled Madara's genjutsu eventually, the world had already changed and would never be the same again.

Across the fire, Izuna was quiet, seemingly immersed in his own thoughts. Sakura watched the shadows cast by the flames move across his face and was struck by the absurdity of the situation. How many times in the past had she visualized a scene like this when she dreamed about Sasuke? She would imagine that they were sent on a long, dangerous mission to some inhospitable place very far from home, just the two of them; and how they would sit by the fire in the evening, and how Sasuke would finally open up to her, would let her in, would talk to her about his feelings; and in those dreams of hers, Sakura would always find the right words for him, and they would grow closer. It would be romantic and beautiful and flawless, a perfect fairytale with an inevitable happy ending.

And now she was sitting by the fire with an Uchiha shinobi who looked like Sasuke's long lost twin brother, only a bit older, and her home no longer felt like home, and the future ahead was bleak, and the mission she was about to undertake was so long and dangerous that the language lacked suitable words to define it properly. But haha! there were just the two of them.

Only, of course, Izuna had no intention to open up to her and she didn't really want him to either, and every time she spoke she seemed to put her foot in her mouth, and every time _he_ spoke, he mocked or insulted her. Well, almost every time. And instead of romance, the sense of hopelessness permeated the air, and the happy ending had never seemed more out of reach.

The universe had a really peculiar sense of humor.

She pushed the unbidden memories away. "Do you think it means that everything else Madara said was also true?"

Izuna gave her an odd look. "That's a hasty generalization. However, knowing my brother, I'm inclined to believe that yes, he did exactly what he told you. Madara likes to keep his word if he can."

Her heart sank. "So the Infinite Tsukuyomi really is reflected off the moon then?"

"Oh, that's one interesting question." Unexpectedly, Izuna seemed to resurface from his lethargic state. His eyes gleamed. "Normally, I would say that it used the moon both as an amplifier and a focal point. Do you understand what I mean?"

Sakura crinkled her forehead. "Are you saying Madara cast his jutsu on the moon rather than directly on us because this way it became more powerful?"

"More or less. But it's more complicated than this. It's possible to use objects as amplifiers for the genjutsu – mirrors are the most obvious choice, for example – although you have to be very careful and not everything will work. In addition, it's much harder to maintain this kind of jutsu because it has more components. And a stationary object is easier to use than the moving one, of course, because the whole paradigm becomes unstable."

"The moon," Sakura said in a tense voice, "was pretty large the last time I checked. And it's constantly on the move, isn't it? How did he pull it off then?"

"Well, it's not something that anyone else would be able to do. But as you might remember, Madara had the chakra of the Tailed Beasts as well as Hashirama's regenerative Wood Style chakra. And, more importantly, he had my Sharingan which he had awakened to the Rinnegan form."

An alarm went off in her head. Something in the way he phrased it bothered her. Something was there that didn't sound right. Sakura felt it keenly, a bit like being pricked with the sharp point of a knife on the back of her neck. But she had no time to ponder the question because Izuna went on, and his explanation was hard enough without her adding to it.

"The amazing part is not that Madara succeeded at using the moon as the focal point of his Tsukuyomi, which can be done even without the Rinnegan form. The fact that he managed to tie off the jutsu and lock it into a self-maintaining system is more worthy of praise. In fact, it's a truly remarkable feat. No one in the history of the clan has ever done that before. Not on that scale. My brother took the idea to a whole new level – a planetary level, if you will. Besides, it was an essential part of his plan. Take that away, and what would be that point of even starting? It's impossible to hold a jutsu forever..."

Three things registered in Sakura's overloaded brain as she listened to him rant on.

The first one was: _oh gods, he's proud! Proud of Madara! He's as insane as his brother!_

The second one was: _the first time I see this guy excited, and it's over the Infinite Tsukuyomi?_

The third one was: _and I didn't get the last part at all._

"It's ready. Catch."

Sakura barely had time to react as he tossed her one of the ducks. She caught it in her hands, only to drop it into her lap immediately, hissing angrily in pain. "It's hot!"

"Of course it is. What did you expect?"

"That's not fair! You're eating off the sword, you don't really have to touch it!"

Izuna flashed her an obnoxious smile. His teeth were very white. "I only have one sword, and I'm not giving it to you."

"It's bad manners to eat off a knife," Sakura pointed out vindictively.

"It's bad manners to tell others they have bad manners."

"Whatever. You have an answer for everything," Sakura took a kunai out of her leg holster and stabbed it viciously into the duck, holding it up and taking a bite.

 _How unhygienic!_ squeaked her inner medic, ready to keel over in utter shock. _And did he even wash it in the first place!?_

 _Who cares, it's delicious and it tastes like actual food!_ purred the rest of her as she relished the sensation and celebrated the inevitable descent into the savage, uncivilized lifestyle.

Minutes passed in what could very nearly be called a companionable silence, at least in the sense that no one was fighting, bleeding or screaming obscenities.

After a while, Sakura pulled herself out of the sea of bliss. "Eh... What did you mean 'he tied it off and locked it into a self-maintaining system'?" _And all the stuff that followed after that too!_

"Hm?" Izuna looked at her as if she had sprouted a second head, then seemed to refocus. He considered the question. "Ah, that. It might be impossible to explain to someone as ignorant as you, I'm afraid." His blunt, dismissive tone told her everything.

The rare moment was gone like it had never happened, and he was back to what had to be his usual charming self – rude and cynical, a textbook example of an asshole. She should have pressed him for a better explanation earlier.

"Give it a shot, will you?" she scowled.

Not dignifying her with a reply, he threw the bones into the bushes, stood up and wandered off to the pond again, taking the sword with him. There he sat down again, washed his hands, and started to clean the blade.

Time crawled on.

Sakura waited.

And waited.

Finally, Izuna held up the katana before him for examination and apparently remained satisfied. He slid it into the scabbard and placed it on the ground before him. He rubbed his face with both hands, then turned to Sakura.

"Alright. I give up. What do you want?"

"I told you, I –"

"Not that crap," Izuna interrupted wearily. "You want me to explain myself, fine, although I cannot guarantee that you will understand my explanation. But it's not the reason, it's just one of the consequences. You seem to be terribly interested in my brother's Tsukuyomi, Sakura, and I can't help wondering why that would be. You have already asked me many questions. I say it's high time you answered one of mine. So I repeat: what is it that you really want?"

Sakura chewed on her lower lip, thinking. Should she tell him the truth of it? It would be better to keep her goal secret, she supposed, just in case, but then he might refuse to tell her anything out of sheer spite, and she had no leverage to use against him. Besides, he was right, it was reasonable of him to expect an answer after she had pestered him with all those questions. Actually, it was surprising he hadn't asked her before. On the other hand, how would he react if she told him? He had seemed so proud of his brother's murderous prowess with genjutsu...

She shot him a glance and found him gazing back at her, waiting patiently. She couldn't read his thoughts or motives on his face at all.

Except he looked tired. Not tired of her – although likely that too – but just physically tired. She noticed, for the first time ever, the shadows under his heavy-lidded eyes, dark and sleepy, the strands of hair plastered to his face, the lopsided, resentful quirk of his mouth, and the way he seemed to struggle not to slump forward.

Not that she looked any different herself, of course, but it was her own decision if she wanted to prance around and analyze things. The death of her friends was her concern, not his. The dying world around them belonged to her. She had automatically assumed he would share her feelings when she had told him the story, but apparently Izuna had an alternative opinion. And now that she started thinking about it, why wouldn't he? His world had been over for a hundred years. His clan was gone. She didn't know if he loved or missed someone, but even if he did, they were all long dead.

Except for his brother. Madara was alive, wasn't he? It made her shiver to even think of him roaming the deserted landscape out there like a hungry ghost, and oddly enough, Izuna didn't look overly thrilled about the fact either. In the back of her mind, she believed she understood the reason. How would _she_ feel if she got told that Sasuke or Naruto had lived through a century full of blood and gore without her? Would she squeal in delight and rush to meet them?

Guilt slipped into her heart and tried to make itself at home there, like a worm inside an apple. Sakura gave an inward sigh and squashed it.

Izuna may not care about her friends, or her home, or the world, for that matter, but she did care and he was her only hope of finding any clues and coming up with a decent strategy. Otherwise, she might as well go look for Madara and just ask him.

" _Oh_ _Madara, what's up? Long time no see, eh? I've been looking for you. Could you kindly tell me how to get rid of your Infinite Tsukuyomi? And put away the Tree, pretty please?"_

Yes, that would totally work. He would likely find it hilarious and may even let her live. His sense was humor was warped and twisted enough to enjoy it.

Sakura shifted a little and stared down at her hands, covered in duck fat as they were. Good grief, how much patience did Izuna possess to remain quiet for so long, especially in his sleep-deprived state? A whole ocean of patience. And she had a spoonful. A bucketful at best. She would have been spitting poison and glaring daggers ages ago.

She met his gaze and said, very firmly."I want to dispel your brother's genjustsu."

There was a moment of ringing silence. "You want to do what?"

She drew a deep breath. "I want to undo the Infinie Tsukuyomi. I want to defeat the World Tree. I want to save my friends and everyone else."

Izuna sat motionless for a while. She was starting to fear he had fallen asleep with his eyes open, when he chuckled. "You really do mean it, don't you? Every single word."

"Yes," she said levelly. "I do."

"You actually want go against the most powerful genjutsu in history, against the World Tree that can reach everywhere, and, in case you have forgotten, against Madara himself? Or do you think he is going to stand by and offer helpful hints?"

"You don't have to be so nasty about it. I know it's not going to be easy."

"It's simply not going to be. At all. You're all alone and no match for my brother and his jutsu."

Sakura bit her lip, willed her voice not to quiver. "So what if you're right? I know all that. I'm not a bumbling idiot, whatever you may think about me. But I'm doing it anyway. I've got no choice. How can I just sit and do nothing knowing that my friends are being killed slowly out there?"

"No choice.." he drawled skeptically. "I knew you were a fatalist after all. Terrific." He suddenly gave a short, humorless laugh. "But you know what, Sakura? I believe you. I don't think you're a bumbling idiot at all. But you're clearly mad, and it's true that mad people don't get to make choices."

Part of her agreed with him whole-heartedly. The rest of her glowered but held her tongue. "So what then? Will you help me?"

She wanted to add more, itched to explain and justify her decision, wished she could prove herself right somehow and make him side with her and not with Madara - although he wasn't exactly siding with Madara either, he was only stating the obvious. She thought all those things as well as many others. But she said none of them out loud in the end. A girl she used to be once would say them. The woman she had grown up to be knew better.

She waited for him to decide instead, and after a short while, he did.

"I will answer all your questions about the Tsukuyomi."

"Really?" Her heart soared, even though her brain suggested making sure he really meant what he had said before she performed a victory dance.

"Really. Even very stupid ones."

" _Thank you!"_ Sakura grinned openly, feeling grateful and sincere for the first time since she'd met him. The relief washed over her, making her feel almost tipsy with excitement. Finally, she was moving, was getting on with her plan, was no longer sinking into hopelessness and misery. "Thank you!"

Then she paused and peered at his face.

It seemed a little too convenient. A little too fast.

 _What's fast about it?_ her inner self argued. _This guy just loves to mess with people! It's his thing! Just let him tell you everything and then he can get lost!_

"If you don't mind me asking, why are you suddenly agreeing to help?"

Izuna smiled back at her, head tilted slightly to one side. "I wonder." Inexplicably, he didn't seem sleepy anymore. "It's getting dark and our dinner is long over," he said abruptly and stood up, the sheathed katana held loosely between the fingers of one hand. "Let's continue the conversation inside, shall we?"

"Inside?"

Something was off about his gaze. She couldn't decipher it, she only knew that it felt odd. The look in his eyes was still flat and dispassionate, but behind it, something else had stirred and come alive. It sent a small shiver of alarm running down her spine.

"Inside the house." He gestured lazily with the other hand, turned around and started walking toward the dark shape of the Hyuuga estate looming silently in the depths of the garden, obscured by trees.

Sakura followed, feet stepping lightly on the grass, eyes trained on his back, on the red-and-white Uchiha clan crest that was not there on the stolen Konoha shirt but might as well be. Her elation had evaporated. She knew what his smile reminded her of.

A trap ready to spring.

-/-

* * *

 _(to be continued)_

* * *

A/N: this counts as a light, happy chapter! Because in the next one we get action. And creepy stuff. XD

And yes, we will eventually find out what Izuna was mainly responsible for in his clan days and why Madara didn't want to do it.

I'm glad you like this little story, guys, thank you all for the support and reviews - and let me know what you think!


	10. Things Getting Rearranged

**Chapter 9.**

 _(things getting rearranged)_

-/-

 _In this midnight hour, I find you right before me._

 _A most inexplicable shock!_

 _Long time no see! We are now complete strangers._

 _When and where did you go missing_

 _(Ah, so hard to remember!)_

 _all this time before you show up again_

– by **Yang Xie** , _The Missing_

-/-

Izuna had never been too fond of the Hyuuga clan. Their shinobi tended to have faces that expressed less emotion than a brick, could boast of a self-control you could bounce rocks off, excelled at taijutsu and ninjutsu, and even when caught or cornered, were usually hard to crack. Izuna could very well respect those useful qualities, he just didn't like to encounter them in his enemies, and the Hyuuga were no friends of the Uchiha.

Not to mention their Byakugan was such a nuisance. Izuna had fought it twice in his life and paid a very high price for the victory. No one liked an enemy with a doujutsu bloodline limit. They were the worst. He knew because _he_ was the worst thing that had happened to quite a number of people. He just didn't enjoy being on the receiving end.

But he had liked the Hyuuga clan's house in Konoha the moment he opened the door and set foot in the hall.

It was a big, sprawling estate, a conglomerate of buildings rather than one house, some larger, some smaller, connected by galleries and pathways, surrounded by gardens that obviously used to be well-cared for in the days before Madara came along and cast his everlasting genjutsu.

In truth, it wasn't much of a shinobi settlement at all, like the rest of Konoha – at least, in Izuna's opinion. Shinobi were not called shinobi just because. They were supposed to live in the shadows of the world, remaining unseen and unheard, a weapon rather than a wielder. Putting up a great big house that stuck out more plainly than if they had raised a flag, that was something a daimyo of a country might do. Funny how the Hyuuga clan had apparently harbored such ambitions all along. Or was it a Senju thing, this desire to come out in the open and construct a life that bordered on civilian?

Izuna had been to the homes of many daimyos – to some he had been invited, but mostly he would come and go as he pleased, and unless he came to kill, his visits passed unnoticed by the inhabitants. He had never aspired to live in a place like that himself, it was simply not his destiny and never would be; but sometimes his work would take him there, and he enjoyed walking their labyrinthine hallways at night, weaving soundlessly through the patchwork of light and shadow; loved to be the only one who knew all the ins and outs, all the trapdoors and sliding panels and secret passages, the only one who was aware of every word spoken within their walls and every carefully crafted plot – the only one who cared nothing about any of their implications because they had nothing to do with him.

It was a sort of power, Izuna supposed, and who didn't want power? It came in many forms and shapes.

He decided he liked the Hyuuga clan's family estate in Konoha in the same detached, impersonal manner. On the inside, it resembled daimyo castles quite a bit. He remembered how Sakura had called the carp pond in the garden _traditional_. Izuna rolled the word slowly in his mind, savoring its taste. Tradition was something you engaged in because your forefathers used to practice it, and you practiced respecting their memory because that was all you had left. You couldn't discard the tradition or modify it. It had been solidified forever by the decades before your time, and at best, you could maybe add to it. Tradition was a small, domesticated death everyone pretended still preserved some spark of life in it.

For Sakura's generation, most of what he considered normal, everyday occurrence was likely an obscure tradition. It was only natural, but it made him feel so... _outdated_. Yes, that was the word.

Maybe he might as well admit it. He simply disliked the idea of being viewed as a relic of the past, as Sakura had not-so-discreetly suggested a couple of times. It insulted his dignity.

Too bad it was one thing he wouldn't be able to change no matter what he did.

"You know what? When you told me I wouldn't understand your explanation, I really wanted to punch you in the nose for being such a snob..."

Sakura's dejected voice drew Izuna out of his reverie. She was sitting opposite him, glumly trying to poke a hole in the tatami with her index finger.

"Glad you reined in your baser instincts," he told her dryly.

"Yeah, right." She shot him a mild glare. "I just can't believe genjutsu is so overcomplicated."

Izuna stifled an amused chuckle. He had answered her questions as best he could, just as he had promised he would, but he suspected that much of what he had said she would never truly comprehend. Not that she could be blamed for that. She _was_ intelligent - Izuna wasn't prejudiced enough to find fault with her. But explaining high-level Mangekyo Sharingan genjutsu to a person without the Sharingan was akin to trying to describe what the color yellow tasted like to a hedgehog. It couldn't be helped.

He had seen her face fall as she struggled with a landslide of new information, and the more he talked, the more her expression grew sour. She had been hoping his explanation would reveal a way to undo the Infinite Tsukuyomi, no matter how difficult it might turn out to be, and instead he had spouted what must have sounded like magic mumbo-jumbo to her ears.

"What did you expect, Sakura? You asked me about a complicated subject. Besides, wouldn't you think that if it were simple, everyone would be using it?"

"Yes, but why didn't we get taught any of this in the Academy? Now that I think of it, the genjutsu part of my training is definitely lacking... Why didn't Tsunade or Kakashi ever tell me either?" She appeared to be fuming again. Clearly, she did that a lot.

"What I have just told you is hardly basic genjutsu training. What's the Academy?"

"Oh, we all went to the Academy as kids. To learn about the key ninja arts, practice the Shadow Clone jutsu and shuriken throwing tecniques, stuff like this. Here in Konoha, you're not really a shinobi until you graduate, not officially. Then you're given a village headband and can go on missions according to your rank."

Izuna found himself a little interested. "And how do they assign rank?"

Her eyes sparkled mischievously. "Well, there are exams, and let me tell you, they're pretty hard. But if you pass them successfully, they up your rank and you become eligible for assignments of a higher rank too, and as you may have guessed already, they're much more rewarding and more interesting, of course."

Those people had a system for literally _everything_. Izuna asked himself if he would have liked to grow up in such an environment and decided that he was quite happy to be a relic of the past after all. Everything in him protested against the idea of random people deciding if he was good enough.

Or maybe he just hated being told what to do. When was the last time someone had dared order him around?

"Um... how did all this work in your clan?" Sakura asked curiously. "Or is it a secret too, like the reason behind your traveling?"

"No secrets. We have... _had_ very few formal ranks or positions because compared to your village we obviously had very few people."

"So did Madara just decide everything?"

"Everything that mattered, yes. Naturally, he didn't bother to tell the women what they should cook for dinner."

Sakura blinked, then burst out laughing suddenly. "Sorry," she said, covering her mouth with a hand. "It's just that you've given me a really odd mental image. Anyway, didn't _you_ have some sort of official position, being the clan leader's brother and all?"

"You've said it yourself. I was the clan leader's brother. If Madara had been killed, not me, I would have become the next leader."

Her eyes grew thoughtful, and Izuna puzzled over the fact that she had found it so fascinating. What he had told her was probably the most widely known bit of information in existence. All clans worked along the same lines. The Senju were another example, and she certainly knew more than enough about them.

Finally she shrugged, a somewhat forlorn expression settling across her features. "Alright. I think I'll be going home now. I need to rest and think about all that, and maybe tomorrow it will make more sense."

 _Not likely_ , Izuna thought, but decided to be gracious for once and waved a hand instead. "I'll trust you to find your own way out."

"Sure." She stood up, brushed herself off and looked down at him, uncertainty clouding her eyes. "Can I ask you about something else?"

"You are doing it already."

She hesitated, but only for a moment. "What are you going to do now?"

"I thought it was obvious. I'm going to sleep."

"Now, not _right now_. I mean, now that you know what happened to us. What happened to the world. Now that you know what your own brother did."

"Well, I'm not my brother, Sakura. Contrary to what you seem to be implying."

"That's not the answer at all, and you know it. And I can see that anyway." She continued to look at him intently, and Izuna felt suddenly uncomfortable under her gaze.

Before that, she had never truly looked at him. She had been looking _through_ him at the things she hoped to uncover, concerned only about her friends, her unrequited love and her own misfortune. Anything but not him. Izuna was perfectly fine with it – if she regarded him as a story-telling function rather than a person, it made her easier to deal with. Professional people were a predictable bunch, for the most part. At least if they had principals and morals and clearly identifiable goals – like Sakura.

Having her scrutinize him wasn't very much to his liking. Izuna preferred to do the scrutinizing himself rather than be the object of it.

"And what exactly is it that you see?" He asked her pointedly, keeping his face blank.

"That you're nothing like Madara. Although I'll be damned if I know if that's a good thing."

Izuna didn't like the sound of it. "Perhaps you should conduct a more thorough analysis before you make a conclusion. If you are capable of such an endeavor, that is."

"That's what I'm trying to do but you're not making it any easier, you know." The twilight cast her face in translucent shadows, making her appear almost ageless – both older and younger than she was, and a little sad. Her green eyes were dark. "To be honest, I can't understand you at all."

 _That's just as well_ , he thought, but refrained from saying out loud.

"I tell you about your clan's extermination, and all I get is bitter sarcasm. I tell you about your brother who is a mass murderer and the destroyer of all life, and you say nothing. And hey, the world ended, did you notice? And you wander off to kill ducks. I'm pretty baffled here."

Izuna felt a bit baffled himself. Was that how his behavior looked to her? _Bitter sarcasm?_

"Frankly, I even think I can sort of understand Madara better. It's really horrible what he's done, and I hope I can reverse it somehow, but I know about his past now and I... feel a little sorry for him, I guess. I hate him for what he did, too, but I also... wish it could have worked out differently for him. I mean, I can see why he turned out the way he is."

"Really," Izuna replied flatly, suddenly wary of the direction she seemed to be heading in. He was _not_ going to discuss Madara with her.

"Yeah, really. He had the worst luck ever, and his personality sucks, and in the end he went insane – sorry, but that's the truth – but at least he actually believed he was doing us all a favor, saving us from suffering and all. And you look like you don't even care about him. Maybe you're so callous and cold-hearted you feel no pity for the rest of us, alright, I can kind of accept that, but Madara is your brother! Part of the reason he ended up like that is because you got killed by the Second Hokage."

She cut off abruptly, sensing that she had said too much.

Izuna drew a hissing breath.

"Oh? So now _I_ am to blame? Is that what you're trying to say, Sakura? _I_ got killed, _my_ brother was forced into exile, _my_ clan was annihilated, and now it's my fault?"

"No!" Sakura wrung her hands in obvious frustration. "Of course I'm not saying that! Why must you always twist my words? I'm only saying that your reaction doesn't look natural!"

"Well, excuse me for not bursting into tears," Izuna snarled in a low voice, feeling a wave of cold rage surge through his blood, make him want to hurt her. What right did she have to presume she knew anything about him? How dared she judge him for not being like her, sentimental and weak, drowning in regret? "Anything else you want to add?"

She was quiet for a little while, looking lost and defeated, her big, dark eyes still lingering on his face. She gave a nervous little laugh. "I just can't find the right words for you, can I? Everything I say comes out so _wrong_..."

"Then maybe you shouldn't say anything. Better still, get out."

Sakura raised a hand to tuck a strand of pink hair behind her ear. He expected her to object, to start arguing, and he almost wished she would, because then he would feel that his anger was justified and would no longer hesitate –

Her fingers twitched. "You're right," she agreed, and then she said no more, turning to walk away from him toward the exit. Izuna remained seated on the tatami, fighting the urge to hurl an insult – or a jutsu – at her back.

The seconds it took her to reach the door seemed to last an eternity. She halted and glanced back at him over her shoulder.

"Izuna..."

"What _now_?" Something twisted inside him at the sound of his name on her lips. Recoiled in disgust.

"Just... thank you. For answering my questions."

"Get out, Sakura."

She left without saying another word, and he found himself alone in the empty, echoing silence of the Hyuuga house. Out of the window, he watched her cross the garden and dive into the bushes, letting herself out and into the street. She didn't look back even once, only quickened her step and soon disappeared behind the corner.

The anger drained away as fast as it had come, leaving him scorched and hollow on the inside, unable to figure out why his self-control had slipped. There was something infinitely irritating about this kunoichi, about her attitude and her whole being, her way of thinking and speaking and even existing in the world, something that made him want to squash her like a bug and yet prevented him from actually acting upon that impulse.

Well, he had made it all a bit more complicated by snapping at her and kicking her out, and when he still needed her, too. _Well done._

Izuna dragged himself into the nearest bedroom, flipped over the first futon he managed to locate, and sank into troubled sleep. He didn't even have it in him to celebrate the fact that he had succeeded at diverting her attention from his own motivation and plans which he wasn't going to share with her in the foreseeable future.

It would have been better if she hadn't thanked him...

Two hours later, Izuna opened his eyes in a room completely submerged in darkness. It was pouring in through the window left ajar, lit up with the faintest red glow, same as the night before when he had fallen asleep on the roof of an abandoned inn. He lay on the futon and listened to the buzzing of night insects, the beating of their wings against the window panels, the creaking of old floorboards.

The night had descended.

Unless he was sorely mistaken, the fun would begin shortly.

He was not looking forward to it. At all.

Without a sound, Izuna rose to his feet, snatching the sword from the floor, and stepped out of the room into the corridor.

-/-

In her cozy little apartment bereft of electricity, Sakura had already gone through a dozen different positions and the only reward was that her legs got completely entangled in the sheets. She was currently lying on her stomach sprawled diagonally across the bed, the pillow somewhere vaguely under her left knee. She had no idea how or when it had got there and although it wasn't particularly comfortable, she made no attempt to move it aside.

Ugh! She was so frustrated.

It was a complex sentiment, more like a monumental, three-story construction, where the Infinite Tsukuyomi occupied the basement and possibly the ground floor, her own inability to become a Sharingan genjutsu expert overnight made the rooms look stylish and sophisticated, and above it all, like a cherry on top of a cake, dwelt Izuna Uchiha with his smug face and his condescending voice and the knack to drop her into situations where she wanted to kick herself in the head for being clumsy and obtuse.

Frankly, it was worse than during her childhood years, when her crush on Sasuke used to make her act like an idiot. Only now she didn't even have the access to the anesthetic effect of being hopelessly in love.

After a thought, Sakura slapped some marble columns of Mounting Anxiety and lacy balconies of Going Mad With Worry onto the imaginary facade and deemed the palace complete. Now she could continue inhabiting its spacious interior, seeing how there was no way out.

She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling, sick of the suspicion that she was actually fretting more about her conversation with Izuna than about Madara's infallible genjutsu. The reason was so obvious it was painful – the Infinite Tsukuyomi wasn't really doing anything, at least not actively, it just happened to be spread around, while Izuna made her life unbearable in a way that was entirely too up close and personal.

And why the hell couldn't she get the hang of talking to him? It was unbelievable, everything she said – everything! – backfired somehow. Or was she simply so incompatible with Uchiha men that any attempt at communication was doomed to failure? If so, she'd have one more reason to steer clear of Madara if ever she accidentally stumbled upon him! Not like she needed more reason.

Finally succeeding at kicking the pillow from under her, Sakura sat up on the bed abruptly – the mattress groaned in protest – and glared at the familiar shapes of the furniture in the room.

Right. It was time to arrange the random facts in her mind into some semblance of a system. She couldn't sleep anyway.

So, what had she learned?

Madara had cast the Tsukuyomi on the moon to give his jutsu a tremendous power boost. To amplify the effect, as Izuna had called it. But in this case, since Madara wasn't really trying to charm the moon itself, it also served to reflect his jutsu right back on the earth, like he had told them. Everyone who had looked at the moon had fallen under the spell, because it was a visual technique. Same as with the normal Tsukuyomi, to look in the eyes of the caster was to sign your own death warrant; and the moon was basically Madara's third... no, fourth eye. A giant, evil eye, orbiting around the planet.

Gods, how creepy was that?

And it was actually the easy part – ironically enough, for both Madara to perform and Sakura to digest. And after that came the inevitable doubts, because either she had failed to understand Izuna's lecture or there was more to the ordeal and she just didn't know where to look.

For starters, from what she understood, Madara had managed to make the Tsukuyomi into a sort of perpetual motion machine. He had cast it only once and it hadn't even taken him long, but once the effect had kicked in, it recharged itself constantly without his interference. Sakura could see how it was truly a brilliant thing to do. Even a hundred Tailed Beasts would not be able to fuel the jutsu of a planetary scale forever, much less Madara himself, no matter how much chakra he now possessed.

According to Izuna, a normal version of the Tsukuyomi required direct eye contact and active invasion of the victim's mind. It was impossible to break into the heads of all living people simultaneously, so Madara had done the unthinkable – he had fastened the genjutsu to the people themselves, so that their own minds gave power to the dreams that held them captive. To make the Tsukuyomi infinite he would have to give it independence, to turn it into a natural phenomenon separate from his will; one that would repeat itself forever like all things in the world did, going through the same never-ending cycle of life and death and rebirth. He would have to let go of it.

Like a god would do.

Whoever had created their world, blowing life into trees and animals and humanity, weaving millions upon millions of individual threads into a great, intricate pattern had gone away too, never to be seen again. But seasons changed, and rains fell, and the sun rose in the east, and volcanoes erupted without any need for a responsible deity to raid them periodically with an accounting ledger and nudge them in the right direction.

So what did it mean then? The end? The world had begun at some point in the distant past, maybe Madara was only carrying out the duty of ending it – didn't the myths all say it would end one day? Perhaps it was really predetermined, like some of the religious and philosophical doctrines claimed, and the script could never be changed or rewritten, rolling out inexorably toward the final act; and then Madara was the architect of their imminent destruction only because someone had to fulfill the role and he was simply the most suitable candidate. He who had the strength to swing the blade, was given the blade.

Sakura pulled at her hair in anguish, feeling small and insignificant, and hating it, hating herself for it.

What was she going to do? She could never reach the moon, and even if she could, what would she do without the Sharingan or Rinnegan or Rinne Sharingan – whatever they called it? And was it even appropriate to call the Infinite Tsukuyomi a genjutsu any longer? Now that it was inbuilt into the world?

Kicking aside the tangled sheets, she climbed out of the bed and plodded toward the window. She pushed aside the flimsy white curtain hanging still in the total absence of the wind, and leaned out.

The moon was visible, riding high through the cloudless night sky, streaming its sinister red light on the earth, where the shadows seemed deeper, more substantial than before, and the familiar roofs of Konoha looked like a scene out of a bad dream, all jagged teeth and hungry darkness below.

Sakura climbed onto the windowsill and sat there, her back against the frame, one leg bent at the knee, the other one dangling out over the empty street. If she tried, she could imagine that she was on board of a ship adrift in the middle of the sea, bobbing ever so gently on the waves while above her, the southern stars danced and realigned into constellations.

There was a tension gradually building up inside her, like a tightly coiled spring, and she felt curiously empty-headed, as if most of her thoughts and emotions had been washed away. She could still sense them distantly, smell them like one could smell salt and seaweed on the wind and hear them like the roaring of the ocean out of sight, but there was an invisible barrier between them and herself, a glass wall that kept them at bay.

Sakura knew what it meant. She was nearing a mental breakdown, and her mind was desperately throwing up defense after defense to prevent that from happening. She wished she could cry – it would certainly help her relieve some of the stress – but for some reason the tears wouldn't come. Odd, that. She had always been emotional. She got mad a lot, and she laughed just as easily. But now she felt like someone had thrust a hand through her ribs and squeezed her heart in icy fingers. It was hard to breath and harder still to think.

Questions flitted in and out of her mind, spinning and whirling out of sight, and if she shut her eyes, she could see their fiery silhouettes outlined against the blackness.

If the Infinite Tsukuyomi was active, and it was, then why wasn't she affected anymore? Why had she woken up in the first place?

What had become of Madara? She couldn't stop thinking about him. He had spent his whole life with one goal in mind, and now he was alone and possibly immortal, the last man standing in the midst of the horror he had wrought.

What should she make of Izuna? A man long dead coming back to life just in time to witness the world being destroyed by his brother. Just in time to accidentally meet her. How likely was that? What kind of hidden agenda did he have and how did she feature in it? There was nothing at all simple about Izuna, and the more time she spent around him, the less she understood. She didn't believe he had lied to her even once, but the truth he told seemed to lead nowhere.

It made her head ache just to think about all that. All questions, no answers. Maybe she should just go and fight the Tree after all? At least it was down on the ground. It was tangible and real, unlike genjutsu. She could try to break it. She could die trying.

And why was the moon red...?

Sakura squinted up at the reddish disc. Wasn't it supposed to be white instead? When Madara had launched the Infinite Tsukuyomi, the first – and the last – thing she could recall was a blinding light that flooded every nook and corner, and then she was asleep and dreaming.

And now it was red. Sharingan red.

Silent and bewitching, it hung in the sky, looking down on the village lost among the dark forests, on the Nakano river that carried its glistening black waters through the part of the land that used to belong to the Uchiha clan, on Sakura at her window, painting red the bare skin of her arms and legs, casting a shaft of light all the way across her bedroom to the large mirror hanging on the far wall.

Not a sound could be heard, and the night air remained stifling and heavy, and tinged with sadness. Silence folded itself snugly around Sakura, brushed her hair with a tender hand, sighed inaudibly in her ear, breathed her in, swallowed her whole.

She asked herself, not for the first time, how different the things would be if Sasuke were here with her. She wouldn't feel so lonely, so confused. She wouldn't be frightened.

It was so easy to let her eyes flutter shut and imagine his face, it took no effort at all because his every feature had long since been burned into her memory and engraved across her heart. Her blood sang of him, and her dreams were alive with longing for him, filled to the brim with endless days of aching to hold him, to touch him, to belong to him.

And now? Never again would he come home...

She wished –

 _–that she could have brought him back earlier, could have shielded him from sorrow, saved him from the demons of vengeance that haunted his nights –_

 _–that she had left with him and stayed by his side and they could be together against the world every step of the way –_

 _–that there could be a moment in time where everything became as it should be, a right turn to take at the crossroads of twilight, a right choice to make to win back what was lost, a happily ever after to wait for –_

The shadows lengthened, slid along the walls of the room, stretched across the floor.

How could she go on without him, she asked herself, when she had made a promise to herself when she was still a child to love only once and forever; when she had poured so much of herself into him that there was nothing left for her to patch up the wound he had inflicted.

How could he – how dared he – not care when she felt as though they had filled her bones with molten lead, as though they had flailed all the skin from her body and left her to bleed and wither away, as though it killed her a little every time she thought of him.

Darkness pooled in the corners, alive and breathing, leaked out of the inverted mirror world where the reflected moon sailed through the reflected night.

She dreamed –

 _–that the war was over, so couldn't he just come back?_

 _–that he would finally get it through his stupid head that she got out of bed every morning and waited for him to decide that his home was where she was, waited for him to abandon his wanderlust and return._

 _–that although the Uchiha clan of old was gone for good, Madara and Obito and Itachi and everyone else, their bones dust, their lives a history of grief, a few lines or pages in the chronicles of the village, but he still had her, had them; they were now three, they were a family._

Just when would he come back?

The air in the room wavered and rippled.

"Sakura."

She startled, nearly tumbling out of the window, jerked away from the view of the dormant roofs, turned back to the room, and her breath hitched. She looked into his eyes, blacker than black –

– and smiled.

-/-

His Sharingan activated, Izuna moved through the house. With every step he took, he liked his predicament less and less.

His intuition was telling him to get out right now before it was too late, but he hesitated.

There was no obvious reason for him to leave – _to escape! escape now!_ insisted the sixth sense – so hastily. The estate was blanketed in a silence so dense he thought he might be able to cut it with a knife, and although Izuna masked his chakra and made sure his footfalls produced no sound, he couldn't shake off the disquieting feeling that the house itself was watching him, alert and fully aware of his presence.

The presence it found undesirable.

 _Leave now._

Yes, he had never felt as unwelcome in any other place in his life and that was saying a lot because Izuna was the sort of person who firmly believed formal invitations and etiquette existed for other people; and since he applied this approach to foes and allies alike, he was hardly the most popular man around.

Through the Sharingan, all the contours and lines were black on red or rather darker red on ordinary red, but they were bold and clear despite the surrounding darkness, and arguably, he could see much better and much further than with his natural eyesight during the day. Of course, the Sharingan landscape was always quite a dreary one...

He slid open door after door, glancing into nearly identical empty rooms with sparse furniture and minimalistic decorations, and continued onwards. The corridor turned right, intersected with a wider passage – a gallery of sorts, apparently leading into another building. From where he stood, it appeared to stretch away infinitely, its floor a mosaic of darkness and light.

Izuna halted in his tracks, uncertain.

Again he was reminded of his nightly expeditions into the homes of the rich and the powerful, only he had always been quite at ease there. Whereas now –

The old house waited patiently for him to make a decision. Left, right, forward? Out of the main building or back into its enfilade of rooms? Or he could go back and sleep some more.

And never wake up again, yes.

Izuna wasn't sure how he knew it, but the thought of sleeping or even remaining in the same place for more than what was strictly necessary made his blood run cold and his every instinct scream of danger. Nothing seemed to stir in the dark, but he could feel something invisible flow and unfold, reaching out toward him, still cautious, still only probing, sizing him up.

For now.

 _Which is why now is the good time to run for it. Not the good time to be proud and stubborn._

The more he considered the gallery before him, the less inviting he found it. It was too narrow and too long. Izuna had a vivid enough imagination, and it immediately supplied half a dozen unpleasant images of getting trapped in a place like that. Of course, he would always be able to crash through the wall into the gardens outside, where the moonlight was bright enough and would provide better visibility –

Somehow the prospect seemed even less appealing.

No, he was not taking that route, not unless the rest of the house was on fire.

The silence around him grew syrupy thick with disappointment, and in the back of his mind, Izuna was fascinated. He almost wished he could see what kind of terrible surprise awaited him there, almost reconsidered –

 _What the hell...?_

He tried to concentrate. The chakra. It was there and yet it was not. Which was impossible. The Hyuuga estate was completely deserted, all its inhabitants slumbering in Madara's Tsukuyomi away from home, and not a single human being except for Izuna himself currently graced the premises with their presence, so he shouldn't be able to sense any chakra at all. But instead he did sense it, both close and distant at the same time, flickering in and out of existence, hovering expectant on the very edge of his vision in the way it might happen in a dream. It was spilled in the air... no, not in the air. It was _on the other side_ somehow, and as soon as he finished the thought he knew it was the right way to phrase it but couldn't understand how he knew it or what it meant; and if there was some _other_ side, then presumably he was on _this_ side, and that meant...

Everything seemed to come alive the moment he turned his back on it, but when he looked directly, it appeared perfectly normal. Shadows sprawled mangled and motionless on the floor when he inspected them through the Sharingan, but shivered and converged when he averted his gaze, he would swear he had seen them move out of the corner of his eye.

And was he imagining the sound of footsteps, or was the wind picking up finally?

It was becoming increasingly hard to think straight.

Someone was approaching. Slowly, as if in a nightmare.

Izuna froze.

It did feel like one of his nightmares, didn't it? The one where things spiraled more and more out of control with every passing moment, and he could only watch.

It felt like a genjutsu. Exactly like a genjutsu.

 _No. It is a genjutsu._

Except that it couldn't be. He was an Uchiha, he had the Sharingan _and_ he was using it. No genjutsu should work on him. And even if – theoretically – someone was indeed casting an illusion powerful enough to affect him to some extent, he would still be able to sense the caster and pinpoint their location, wouldn't he? The one who controlled the jutsu had to hang around, close enough to make sure it didn't get dispelled or simply messed up too quickly.

Who?

Hastily, Izuna scanned the area for the familiar chakra signature, for any sign of his brother's presence – _anyone's_ presence – and found none. He was still alone in the house, alone in the village itself, unless one counted Sakura – no one did – and he could feel the vortex of energy forming around him, not entirely there yet but getting closer, getting more real with every heartbeat.

 _Madara,_ he thought, horrified, as a guess flashed through his mind _, what have you done?_

The darkness behind him shimmered, convulsed, took shape –

He thought, _I'm screwed_.

-/-

* * *

 _(to be continued)_

* * *

A/N: nope, no one gets to relax in this chapter. But well, it's the end of the world. Would be boring with just the Tree doing the nasty stuff...

I think I was going to say something clever here, but as usually I forgot it all, which is probably for the best. So let's have some fun instead.

If someone guesses right what the hell is going on here, I'll write them a gift Sakura story. A oneshot - pick a theme or a pairing, add some Sakura, and we all know that art is a bang. Even themes like "ten times Sakura hated Kakashi's ninja dogs" are allowed, anything goes. XD

P/s: **SunRises6** : yup, I also thought it was implied, and so I took it into that direction. We'll find out soon! XD


	11. Before The Dawn Breaks

**Chapter 10**

 _(before the dawn breaks)_

-/-

 _And I said to myself: It is the truth. Hope must be  
Like barbed wire to keep out our despair.  
Hope must be a minefield._

\- **Yehuda Amichai,** _Ein Yahav_

-/-

For the first time in her life, Sakura was in two minds about something, and she wasn't liking it one bit. It felt like she was trying to watch two different movies at the same time, one with her right eye, the other with her left.

In both movies she starred as the protagonist.

In the first one she was happy because she finally got her wish.

"Oh," she breathed through tears of joy as she embraced the man who had returned to her. "I can't believe you're back..."

And he pulled her close and held her tight, and she buried her face in his shoulder, inhaled his scent, metal and earth and blood, and something else too, something unique to him, and her life was complete. All the pieces had fallen into place, and it was beautiful, and she wanted nothing except to fold the moment and tuck it away in her heart and inhabit it forever with him.

...and she saw _the other her_ , so small and defenseless, dressed in shorts and a tank top, all alone in the room, all alone in the world, standing very still in the moonlight streaming through the window, surrounded by darkness.

 _Poor girl_ , she thought sadly, full of pity, _how lonely she must feel._

 _And I'm not lonely anymore._

 _Wait, who's thinking that...?_

"I'm glad to be back," said Sasuke, his voice reaching inside her to touch the part of her that lay buried but unforgotten beneath all the things that made up her life, and she smiled against the rough fabric of his shirt.

And the other Sakura swayed slightly, her head lolling, her face streaked with tears, and turned away from the window. On the far wall, the mirror gleamed, silvery-black, and she walked toward it slowly, moving along the narrow shaft of light, like a tightrope dancer over the abyss.

Inside the mirror, the reflected world tipped over into nothingness, substituted by the swirling black fog pressing against the looking glass from the other side, eager to spill through.

She saw her own silhouette emerge from within it. The mirror Sakura stood motionless, her arms hanging slack, her face calm and expressionless as a porcelain mask.

"You waited for me after all," said Sasuke in a tone of mild surprise. His soft breath fanned into her hair, and she shivered with delight. "Only you would do something like that, Sakura."

She pulled away a little to look up at him. "Yeah, sure. I'm stupid like that. But hey, you should be thankful!"

"Hn. I _am_ thankful."

The one who was alone raised her head and peered in the mirror, and the reflection smiled back at her – a sweet, razor-sharp smile that dripped darkness – and raised a hand.

And the one who was watching, somewhere – where? – far away, struggled to make sense of what was going on and found herself shrinking in size, suffocated, torn asunder.

 _It's possible to use objects as amplifiers for genjutsu – mirrors are the most obvious choice, for example_ , said a stranger's voice in her mind, dry and informative and maybe a little amused.

Irritation surged through her. How dared he interfere when she had finally found her happiness?

 _Wait, who is he?_

 _And who is the one asking the question if I'm there?_

For a split second, both images seemed to overlap, converging into one, and the picture in her head – _is it only in my head?_ – got all messed up, the space collapsing in on itself, voices suddenly muted, colors bleached, until it disintegrated completely.

 _Which one am I?_

Inside the mirror, the other Sakura took a step forward, laid her palm against the glass, fingers splayed wide, and _pushed_.

It should have cracked or broken, but it did neither. Instead, the silvery surface began to bend under the pressure. The reflected woman still had Sakura's face, but her eyes were pools of liquid dark and there was nothing human about them.

She – _who is she?_ – could feel the shadows on her side of the looking glass draw closer, poised to attack. They were no longer lying flat on the floor, but were rising, stretching _up_ , gaining a new dimension.

 _Attack?_

The world swam into focus. They were all ganging up on her.

Just when she thought she was fine, at least for a little while, when she thought she could relax and take a break –

 _A little picnic among the picturesque ruins of my life._

–a short break before she had to go out there again and fight a losing battle against the opponent who had no weakness –

 _You are no match for my brother and his jutsu._

– in her own home no less, they sneaked up on her and tried to kill her. Trying to take her down like that, the nerve of them!

Sakura felt very angry. So unspeakably angry, enraged, furious, just so _damn pissed off._

She didn't know who _they_ were and at the moment it didn't matter to her at all. Someone was doing this to her, someone wanted to finish her off, and they had used the thing that was most important to get at her, the lowly scum! She could no longer see Sasuke, and probably he had never been here to begin with. All the better. She didn't care why he had appeared before her or what power had conjured him up, not now. Maybe he was nothing but a figment of her imagination.

Sakura clenched her teeth and growled.

To use him against her... No, to use her love, her feelings against her, to try and turn her own mind against itself – that was beyond forgiveness.

The creature inside the mirror seemed to have sensed its spell falling apart. It pushed harder, channeling its power into its hand, and the mirror thinned where its fingertips dug into the surface. It was no more than a transparent membrane now, and Sakura knew – with the same inescapable certainty one might only experience in a nightmare – that the moment it burst open under the creature's fingernails would be the end of her.

They would attack from all sides and she would die.

She wasn't going to take any chances.

The fog in the mirror drew back, a coiling black halo of energy behind the she-monster, ready to strike.

 _Oh no, you don't!_

A battle cry even she could hardly understand rattled out of her throat, and Sakura slammed a chakra-laden fist into the center of the mirror, putting her weight and the force of her outrage behind the blow.

The surface didn't break this time either – it bent inwards, stretching impossibly far so that her arm plunged almost all the way up to her shoulder into the frame – and _into the wall_ , Sakura realized dimly, in the back of her mind.

The woman who wasn't Sakura recoiled, mouth twisting in an ugly grimace, and fell back into the darkness that yawned open behind her. It swallowed her up and she was gone. The mirror pushed her out, the backlash jarring the bones in her arm painfully, and then it misted over, as if an unexpected frost spread across its surface in a flash, hiding from view whatever lay on the other side.

With a high, piercing sound that resembled a shriek, it shattered, shards flying everywhere. Sakura covered her face.

 _Behind me!_

She spun, knowing she had no time to think, and for once she found that a blessing. She expected to find the shadows there, the ones she had sensed before, but there was no trace of them. They had dissipated, and she would breathe a sigh of relief, but something else had already taken their place.

Heart sinking, Sakura recognized the approaching chakra.

The World Tree.

Before she finished the thought, the roots had burst through the floor all around her.

-/-

He saw the darkness fold back on itself and part to let her through. She stepped out quietly, her long, straight hair swaying gently as she walked toward him. She came to a stop no more than three or four paces away from him and there she hovered, on the very edge of a large square of moonlight.

Izuna watched her approach through the activated doujutsu, and in the bleak, Sharingan-colored world made up of a thousand hues of red, she shone with a wavering light. To his eyes, her entire body seemed to be made of chakra, a stretch of ghostly, semi-transparent energy compressed into the shape of a woman. It flickered around the edges.

That could only mean one thing.

She was not human. Rather, she was not a real person.

There was a not-so-subtle difference between types of chakra when they were viewed through the Sharingan. Elemental particularities aside, all types of ninjutsu burned incandescent, bright and steady. It was the sort of power that faded into the foreground and was impossible to overlook for someone with a doujutsu bloodline limit. Izuna himself had long since lost count of those who had fallen to his blade simply because they didn't know about this little fact and thought they had hidden themselves perfectly. Ignorance was bliss, but only until the moment when suddenly it wasn't because you were dead.

Genjutsu was another story. Through the Sharingan – and especially through his Sharingan – it usually looked like a glimmering veil spread _underneath_ the image created by its master. If the shinobi in question lacked concentration and control – and in Izuna's opinion, nearly everyone lacked them – the image fluctuated and became unstable. Flaws and cracks appeared and disappeared, and through those cracks he could see the chakra the illusion was molded from. Its colors flowed and intermingled, distorting the world according to the will of the caster.

Madara disagreed, but as far as Izuna was concerned, the true purpose of the Sharingan was genjutsu, not ninjutsu. In theory, there was no limit whatsoever to what a genjutsu master could achieve. It offered infinite possibilities...

 _Infinite._

One hundred years after his death, Madara had proven him right. There was something incredibly ironic about that.

As Izuna considered the figure in front of him, he wanted to laugh and curse at the same time.

The woman was an illusion. This was genjutsu chakra, and all the telltale signs were there.

Which was where the trouble began.

Only living things could be killed. If she was an illusion, taijutsu and weapons would not work on her, and neither would most ninjutsu. In his mind, Izuna went through the wide array of elemental techniques available to him and discarded them all, including some of the rare ones that only he might be capable of using. Not even the Amaterasu was likely to have any effect.

Part of him rejoiced at the conclusion. Casting the Amaterasu would put enormous strain on his eyes, and Izuna rather liked having his eyesight back. He had spent several years watching the world fade away little by little and enjoyed nothing about it. He was reluctant to begin the descent again.

Of course, both taijutsu and ninjutsu would work perfectly fine on the person behind the illusion. If he could find that person.

But he couldn't. He was unable to sense them at all. It had never happened before.

The amount of chakra crammed into the shimmering female form was massive and the image held and acted as if it had a purpose, but there was no sign of whoever had brought it into existence, and that simply couldn't be.

All genjutsu could be traced back to their creator in one way or another, if only because each was unique. A genjutsu carried on itself an imprint of the mind that conjured it up, and no two minds were ever quite alike. In the very beginning – and only for a short moment – Izuna had considered the possibility of his brother being the caster, but he would know Madara anywhere, and it wasn't him. It mattered nothing that a century had passed and Madara must have changed in more ways than Izuna could imagine. His mind would still retain its original patterns. Like the chakra signature, it was one of the very few things in the world one might depend on.

Izuna was glad to realize that his brother had nothing to do with this phenomenon – what would he do if it really _was_ Madara, hellbent on destruction and insane? He didn't want to dwell on the thought. He didn't want to fight his brother.

He didn't want to die again.

Then his relief melted away in a heartbeat as he arrived at the next logical conclusion.

There really was no caster. There was no will behind the illusion, no one was guiding it to do their bidding. It was moving – _existing_ – entirely of its own accord.

That was impossible.

Before his eyes the creature made of chakra _blurred_ –

No, not blurred. Rather, there were three or four shapes – _several women? no... more like several aspects of the same woman_ – superimposed over one another. They occupied the same space at the same time, and it made his eyes hurt just to look at them, but if he persevered he could see that yes, they all had the identical straight hair, petite build and tilt of the head, but the height differed, and so did the outline of the figure.

He peered closer, The smallest one was scrawny, the tallest one had slightly more feminine forms...

The age. It was as if the woman couldn't decide how old she was and was rapidly shifting through a multitude of phases, unable to choose one, and looping all the way back again to start anew.

Well, that was a poetic explanation. Under the normal circumstances, Izuna would opt for a more practical one and speculate that the genjutsu caster was doing a poor job of controlling the illusion. After all, the vast majority of people had very little aptitude for genjutsu and even among those who did have talent, few could boast of significant achievements.

Well, there was no caster now.

Instead, he faced a vagabond genjutsu in a world ruined by the Infinite Tsukuyomi, which was also a genjutsu unlike any other. Fantastic. How was he supposed to destroy an illusion without a master? He knew it for what it was, but there a considerable amount of power in it and no apparent link to anything or anyone, nothing at all that might help him get rid of it.

And it acted sentient.

The figure moved, taking a step in his direction, out of the shadows and into the moonlight.

She looked very young, no more than sixteen years old, long dark hair cascading down her back. Her eyes were completely white, as if blind. Around them, a thin spider web of veins pulsed under the skin.

Byakugan.

Lips moved, and a voice said, "You are not welcome here."

The invisible current of energy Izuna had sensed in the background some time ago encircled them, sped up, tightened.

Yes, he was so screwed.

-/-

Normally, Sakura would be happy to fight inside a small room stuffed full of furniture. A setting like that was ideal for someone who excelled at close combat, and was the worst place imaginable to unleash big, powerful ninjutsu because no one liked to have their own technique come back and bite them in the ass.

Unfortunately, _normal_ didn't really apply to the World Tree. The roots were seemingly _everywhere_.

Sakura was surprised she had managed to avoid most of the damage when they had come at her from all sides, but somehow she had pulled that off. It must have been the adrenaline rush because at first, she had barely felt the pain in her left shoulder.

She was feeling it now though. The wound was shallow but a considerable chunk of her skin was torn off as one of the roots had grazed her when she tried to evade, dropping down to the floor and rolling under the intertwined monstrosities toward the window.

Scrambling to her feet, Sakura launched herself out and in the direction of the house on the other side of the street. Not a second too soon – behind her, she heard the remains of the floor of her room come crashing down into the apartment below. She pulled herself up onto the roof, and immediately the hissing of the air alerted her to the presence of the roots. Turning back, Sakura saw them emerge, disgusting, writhing things that looked like tentacles of some deep-dwelling chthonic horror. Then they pulled back inside.

She rolled again, hopped onto the next roof, channeled chakra into her legs and ran, zig-zagging, changing directions, hoping like hell she could somehow lose them.

They only seemed to move faster. The roof she had only just left exploded in a shower of rubble as the roots shot up from below, one of them snapping at her back, nearly reaching her.

Dammit! She was bleeding profusely from the wound on her shoulder, her left arm was quickly going numb and useless, and apparently she had got hit by some of the mirror fragments as well. They remained embedded in her flesh, sending sharp jolts of pain when she moved. She needed to heal herself, but she didn't dare stop even for a moment.

 _Just my luck. Nearly getting killed by some freakish mirror-thing, and now the Tree too._

Sakura veered to the right, jumped to the ground and shot off in the direction of the main street, her heart beating a mad rhythm of panic in her chest. She didn't even bother trying to be quiet – something told her that the roots couldn't care less if she was stealthy or not. They were probably not using anything even remotely like the human sense of hearing anyway.

 _What do they use then?_

She ducked into a garden, crossed it diagonally, nearly tripped over her own feet, and burst out of a row of rose bushes into a narrow parallel street, thorns scratching her skin painfully. She hissed but didn't slow down. Almost immediately, the sound of branches being snapped came from behind her, leaving no room for fantasies. The roots were still there, following her like a loyal dog would follow its master.

Following her under the ground. Or maybe there were roots everywhere under Konoha and as she passed over them, they awakened?

 _Think think THINK. How do they know where I'm going if they can't hear me?_

The horrible things had no eyes either, so that was out of question. Sakura remembered how they had appeared to be looking right at her when she got attacked on the battlefield two nights ago, and it almost made her doubt. Could they be able to see her after all? But how? They were _roots_.

 _No, there's something else. What is it?_

She raced towards the nearest house. Kicking the door open, she darted inside and shot up the stairs, her footsteps deafeningly loud in the empty, echoing building. Nothing would deter the World Tree, of course, but perhaps she would gain several seconds. The higher she was above the ground, the more advantage she had.

Did they _smell_ her? No, she could probably rule that out too.

Sakura covered the last flight of the stairs and was on the roof again, the endless dark sky still as silent and serene above her, the red moon gazing down indifferently on the horrible game of tag taking place in Konoha in the dead of the night.

Maybe they could sense the vibrations of the ground as she ran?

She leaped across the main street, wide as it was, and knew she was running out of chakra very, very fast. She didn't have Naruto's unlimited reserves and she had put a lot into the punch that smashed the mirror earlier. She was also beginning to feel a little dizzy, no doubt due to the blood loss.

 _Will they crush me or put me back to sleep in the Tsukuyomi? Hey, maybe I'll get to see my imaginary daughter again._

But it didn't seem likely. Perhaps, in the morning Izuna Uchiha would show up and find the bloody mess that used to be her, strips of torn flesh and shattered bones and blood, smeared on some wall or splashed all over rose bushes, and then he and his bother would be the only people left on the earth. Sakura wondered if they would fight to the death and kill each other in the proper brotherly fashion of their clan.

 _Don't you get distracted, idiot!_ barked her inner self, panic-stricken and outraged.

How could she find out if the roots really sensed her footsteps and not get killed in the process? Well, obviously, she only had to stop, didn't she?

 _Ahaha! Like hell!_

If she stopped, she was toast. Maybe she should get out of Konoha? But that meant going into the forest, which didn't seem to be a smart move. And if she tried to fight? Sure, she would destroy some of them, but the Tree was powerful and had an inexhaustible supply.

 _Madara, you bastard._

Like a rabbit chased by a pack of wolf, she looped back and forth over the roofs, her mind frantically trying to analyze the scraps of information available to her and work out a solution that didn't result in her death.

She didn't have enough chakra left to fight, anyway. What she still retained would serve to prolong her chaotic sprint – ten, maybe fifteen minutes, if she was lucky – and then the roots would snatch her. If only she had soldier pills... If only she had her kunai with explosive tags.

Where was the Uchiha bastard when she needed him!? He could at least make himself useful and offer some help! What was that Sharingan of his for?

Sakura skidded on her feet as the last thought flashed across her mind. She must be really scraping the bottom of the barrel if she was thinking _that_.

What the hell, was she really that pathetic? Was it all a fluke then, her growth as a kunoichi, her hard work? All that so she could die here wishing for a stranger who wasn't even her friend to come and fight off the enemy in her place? He didn't even like her, and she didn't like him back either!

Was she really so useless she would just run and not have the guts to test one freaking theory that might just save her ass? If so, she would be better off back in the Tsukuyomi where she would get to live peacefully and quietly, almost like a civilian, doing research and caring for potted plants!

 _No way_ , she thought, _If I'm going down, I'm going down like a real ninja, doing my best until the very end. Like Tsunade's apprentice, like Kakashi's student. Like Naruto's friend. I have to survive._

The roots reared behind her, dark against the night sky full of stars.

Channeling the last of her chakra to boost her speed and put more distance between herself and Madara's monstrous jutsu, Sakura jumped, aiming to land in the inner yard below. There was an old well in the center of it, a black square half-hidden in the tall grass. Perhaps if she could drop into the water and stay there, not touching the ground, the roots would lose her. It would be better to try and reach the Nakano river, but she was already on the verge of collapsing.

She knew immediately that she had overestimated herself. Her chakra flared feebly – and flickered out. She fell, straight into the darkness below, trying to turn in the air so as to nullify the impact. She succeeded only partially and felt the landing in her very bones, going momentarily blind and disoriented from the pain. She could barely feel her left arm, and the pain seared through her bleeding shoulder. Her left ankle was on fire – ironically, it was apparently the same injury she had sustained breaking free of the Tsukuyomi.

Sakura lay on the ground, unable to move, breath knocked out of her lungs, and waited for the death to come, waited for the earth to split open beneath her and swallow her up.

The roots of the World Tree erupted from the ground on the edge of the yard, then closer to where she sprawled, and closer still, a whole forest of spears thrusting up toward the sky. She heard the sharp sound they made as they tore through the air, the disgusting slithering of them moving in the grass as they began searching for her –

She shut her eyes.

And opened them again. The stars were still there, above her. The chakra of the World Tree seemed to press her into the ground. Something brushed against her bare leg – something big, its surface rough and uneven. Another something moved out of sight, but very close to her ear.

Turning her head very slowly, very cautiously, Sakura looked to the right and saw that she was surrounded. There were... hundreds of them maybe? It seemed like that, but it might be her shock exaggerating the number. No longer rigid, they swayed uncertainly as if sniffing her out, coiled around one another in an excruciatingly slow, languid manner; they almost seemed to be communicating somehow.

And then, in the same unhurried way, they began to retract one by one, disappearing back under the ground. The grass rustled once more – and was still. The invisible pressure lifted as their chakra faded away,

She was alone again. Alone and inexplicably alive.

Why hadn't they seized her? If they sensed the vibrations, as she had thought, they couldn't have missed the spot where she'd hit the ground like a sack of rotten apples.

 _They must be guided by something else then._

Sakura sat up and tried to ignore the pain. She would have to finish that important thought, but not now. She had to take of her wounds before they killed her. She was depleted – again, she was so sick and tired of that – so healing herself would have to wait. Luckily, though, she had managed to avoid serious injuries, and the blood loss was the only immediate threat to her life. She needed to disinfect the wound and stop the bleeding as soon as possible.

Where was she? With all the running, she had lost track of where she was going. Wouldn't it be nice if she were somewhere near the hospital, though. Sakura looked around and her eyes found a landmark she knew well.

The Hokage Residence.

Its upper floor was visible above the roof of the house that shielded the yard from the street, while in the background, the Hokage Rock with the faces carved into it loomed dark and imposing.

Sakura cheered up, That sure was a stroke of luck! While not the hospital, it still was – used to be – the place where Tsunade spent most of her time, working or drinking or napping, depending on the mood of the day, and Tsunade was a medic. _The_ medic, really. Something as basic as a disinfectant and some bandages wouldn't be hard to find in her office or one of the adjacent rooms.

She gasped as she tried to stand up. The ankle throbbed and it felt like her whole leg was about to fall off, not just her foot. Sakura gnashed her teeth, told herself to deal with it, and limped slowly back toward the street, dripping blood every step of the way.

-/-

She attacked, and he evaded, suddenly grateful the life had been generous enough to pit him against Hyuuga shinobi in the past. Thanks to that, he now had a fairly good idea of what he should expect from her.

The bad part was that he didn't like what he knew.

Izuna had always been quite proud of his taijutsu skills – and of his other skills too, they were all superb even if he was the one saying that – but he also wasn't stupid. Just because he was good didn't automatically mean he was the best, however reluctant he might be to admit the fact.

The Gentle Fist taijutsu invented by the Hyuuga clan was not to be trifled with. It played to their greatest strength – the Byakugan – and allowed them to be very efficient and very deadly. In truth, it was perhaps the only taijutsu Izuna preferred not to fight against. The Byakugan couldn't offer a range of techniques as diverse as the Sharingan, but it gave its owner a way to seal the opponent's chakra flow, and no opponent who got hit by that would be casting any interesting jutsu afterwards, at least not for a very long time.

So he dodged and evaded and made sure he kept as much distance as possible between himself and the Hyuuga kunoichi. Sadly, it wasn't much at all, because the intersection of corridors in the house was hardly very wide and spacious. He missed the garden with the carp pond.

With the sheathed sword, Izuna deflected a roundhouse kick aimed at his head and fell back a couple of steps, moving out of her range. She was fast, but so was he, and the Sharingan enabled him to predict her next strike. She continued to shift between several forms, shimmering with chakra, and following her movements made his head ache.

They circled each other, weaving in and out of moonlight, and as far as Izuna could say, this could go on forever or rather until his first mistake. Sooner or later, he would grow tired, his concentration would slip, and that would put an end to this dance macabre. She, on the other hand, would not tire. Illusions never did.

He would have to wrap things up quickly then.

 _Easy_ , he thought sourly, _no problem at all._

She lunged at him again, and his back was already pressed against the wall – he threw himself out of harm's way and her fist collided with the surface and smashed right through. He caught a glimpse of the familiar ghostly chakra in the cracks that spread immediately around the spot.

Just as he had thought. The genjutsu was more than just the Hyuuga girl. It was just that in her the chakra was so... _condensed_ , the rest of the illusion paled in comparison.

Izuna moved behind her back, but she was already turning, graceful and agile, long hair flying, her other hand striking at him even before she disentangled herself from the wall. He fell back again.

What were his options here?

He couldn't slay the caster because there was no caster, he couldn't just ignore the illusion because it was already trying to kill him, and he couldn't cut off its link to the power source because apparently it just fueled itself.

Like Madara's Infinite Tsukuyomi.

That, originally, had been the reason he suspected Madara's involvement. It would have been the worst possible scenario, because Izuna wasn't arrogant enough to believe that Madara, now equipped with the Rinnegan, Hashirama's Wood Style chakra and other jutsu he had no doubt perfected over the years would be an easy opponent.

Of course, there was always hope that Madara would be overjoyed to see his younger brother because he had always missed him terribly, and that he would put that absurd genjutsu away immediately upon recognizing him, but somehow Izuna wasn't inclined to put this flattering theory to the test.

Based on what Sakura had told him, Izuna suspected that Madara might just try to kill him and claim it was for his own good.

Fortunately, Madara had nothing to do with it, after all.

 _Un_ fortunately, Izuna had no idea what would be the right course of action because a genjutsu without a master wasn't supposed to be possible.

 _I guess I'll just have to figure it out very fast_ , he thought. _An opportunity of a lifetime. I love those._

What would happen if she got him? Technically, no genjutsu was supposed to be able to kill its victim because it wasn't real but Izuna knew that to be a lie.

His own Tsukuyomi could kill alright, even if he preferred not to advertise the fact. People were simply so horrendously bad at genjutsu they tended to believe any idiotic story, provided it told them what they wanted to hear.

No, he didn't want to find out if she could actually finish him off.

Well. He could always run. There was nothing wrong with executing a strategic retreat if the chances of winning were slim. Besides, he had no real reason to fight except to save his own life, and fighting without a reason was the most stupid thing in the world if the circumstances allowed to simply go away.

Izuna swatted away another blow and sent the kunoichi staggering back with a backhand stroke of the sword she didn't appear to expect. Before she regained her balance, he had already leaped up, somersaulted in the air over her head, throwing an extra kunai to stall her further, landed in the beginning of the gallery leading out of the main building and dashed off.

From the silence he could say she wasn't chasing him.

That lack of pursuit could only mean –

The walls started to collapse inwards. The end of the gallery was not getting any closer. Izuna was sure the distance remained the same as if he hadn't moved at all. He could feel the energy build up all around, and on the edges of his vision, the world flickered and became hazy.

An unpleasant feeling of deja vu swept over Izuna. He was certain he had seen this before. He knew exactly how it would unfold, didn't he..?

Yes, he did.

The floor began to fall away under his feet, and beneath it was nothing, a bottomless chasm full of swirling darkness.

Izuna snarled. That was just insulting!

He unsheathed the katana, rammed some chakra into the blade – closed his eyes – slashed at the wall on his right as it fell towards him – let the chakra spread – and leaped through –

As he had expected, no impact followed. There really was no wall. There was no gallery either.

He opened his eyes again and recognized the garden with the pond. The front entrance of the main building was right in front of him, its doors blasted away. The red moon shone as brightly as before, casting long shadows on the grass.

It was far from over.

Izuna drew a deep breath –

–and activated the Mangekyo Sharingan.

The air rippled once, twice; shadows spilled out of the house and revealed the figure of the Hyuuga kunoichi emerging from within. She seemed to pause for a moment watching him, and then started running in his direction.

At the same time he sensed _something_ move under the ground, something that was not genjutsu at all but felt familiar nonetheless. It stretched and shot _up_ –

He had no choice.

Izuna leaped as high as he could, angling in the direction of the street, turned in the air and _cast._

The Hyuuga estate went up in spectral flames. Cold and dark, they licked at the sky, swept through the whole estate, igniting everything in their path, engulfing the trees and the pond and all buildings in a heartbeat.

Landing on the roof of a house across the street, Izuna watched the fire blaze, saw the shadows below writhe and convulse in agony, felt the offensive chakra trying to withstand his power and failing, dissipating, fading away. The flames gave off no heat, seeming to suck the warmth out of the summer air instead.

Through the pain in his right eye, through the blood that trickled down his face, Izuna bared his teeth and smiled – a wild, feral smile that held no mirth – and willed the flames to extinguish. They flared for the last time and went out.

He deactivated the Sharingan.

 _I win._

And then –

It looked as though an invisible hand pulled a dimension out. Where the Hyuuga estate should have remained, cleared of all genjutsu, the landscape lost all depth, all perspective. Colors drained out of it. It crumpled like an ancient scroll and fell apart.

For the briefest of moments, in the place where it used to stand was nothing, and then, impossibly, the ragged edges of the void pulled close and stitched themselves together like a seam.

It happened very quickly, without a sound. There were no flashes of light, no sinister feeling. No chakra.

Izuna looked blankly at the row of peaceful houses that used to be much further away up and down the street, at the forest beyond the border of the village that appeared to have inched closer, and perhaps for the first time in his life, found himself unable to form a coherent thought.

He jumped down from the roof, staggered, realized his head was spinning, and spent several seconds fighting to keep his balance. He was still bleeding from his right eye, and although the pain had dulled a little, it was sharp enough to keep his mind occupied for a while. He decided that he liked it that way.

Only the taste of his own blood made him slightly sick.

Izuna set off walking, very slowly, occasionally flinging an arm out to brace himself against the wall of whatever building happened to be available and avoid toppling over. He had no idea where he was going, nor did he care so long as it was _away_. He really liked the sound of _away_.

He didn't know how much time had passed when the great dark shape of the mountain towering over Konoha drew close, and he knew he had wandered up to what Sakura had called the Hokage Rock.

Izuna wasn't sure how he felt about it but probably it didn't matter.

Ahead of him stood a red, vaguely circular building, and at the entrance –

"Izuna!?"

Yes, at the entrance was Sakura.

She was very scantily clad, covered in blood and looked frightened. In the back of his mind, Izuna noted that it was the first time he saw such raw fear on her face. If he could spare energy to be curious, he would ask her what had happened to her, but that would just have to wait...

Good old Sakura. He was almost happy to see her.

She seemed unsteady on her feet and he would think she was drunk, if not for the blood.

"What the hell was _that_!?" she asked in a hoarse voice.

Izuna looked at her with one eye and cast around for a suitable answer. _What do you think it was? w_ ould spur her to continue the conversation. _You know, part of your dear village just disappeared_ could result in anything from a heart stroke to a hysterical fit. He wasn't prepared to deal with either, so instead he smiled faintly.

And said, "Why, Sakura, you look like shit."

-/-

* * *

 _(to be continued)_

* * *

A/N: ….ahh, action! A whole chapter full of action. In my head though, it's called _The Chapter Where Izuna Did Something Other Than Troll Sakura_. Well, yes. I suppose it was a bit unfair to ask you to guess what was happening. It seems that I actually did manage to come up with a somewhat original plot. XD Anyway, the two of you who guessed Sakura was inside a genjutsu - feel free to request a Sakura story!

Stay tuned and you will find out: what's that weird jutsu Izuna used (hint: no, it's not what you think)? Will Sakura discover the secret of the World Tree? What does Madara have to do with everything? And of course – when will Sakura and Izuna finally start getting along?

And all the other stuff that was hinted at in the previous chapters because it will all make sense, I promise. None of it was random.

Thank you for your support and please let me know what you think! XD


	12. Spinning Out Of Control

**Chapter 11**

 _(spinning out of control)_

-/-

 _We know this much  
death is an evil;  
we have the gods'  
word for it; they too  
would die if death  
were a good thing _

**-** by **Sappho**

-/-

"Why, Sakura, you look like shit."

 _Amazing_ , she thought. _this guy is something else. I wonder if it's just him or if they were all like that back in the Warring Times?_

He turned up bleeding and staggering in the middle of the night, obviously having fought someone, not to mention the whole end-of-the-world thing, and he still had it in him to open the dialogue with sarcasm. Was that how he and Madara used to discuss battles? She found it hard to visualize, at least judging by the attitude exhibited by Sasuke, Itachi and even Obito. They were all so... somber and serious, and well, tragic. On the other hand though, Madara himself had lived the most tragic life of them all, but he still compared fighting to dancing, seemed to be even more fond of talking than Izuna _and_ he had made a lot of jokes. It was simply that they were really bad jokes – bloodthirsty and cruel – but no one could blame him for not trying.

She didn't know what she was supposed to reply to a greeting phrased as an insult, so she said, "Right back at you."

Inexplicably, Izuna appeared to find that hilarious. His visible eye creased in amusement.

"So glad to know you're capable of making your own entertainment," he told her conversationally, "because I certainly wasn't bored."

He didn't _look_ bored. He looked awful. "What happened to you?" Sakura asked.

Izuna pondered the question. "That depends," he said finally, "on how you choose to interpret it."

"Oh please, not now... Just tell me your version."

"Later."

"Why later?"

"Because," Izuna said mildly, "I'm dizzy and not really up to recounting the tale of my adventures at the moment."

"Oh," said Sakura. What was she thinking? Or rather why wasn't she thinking... "Sorry. Are you injured?"

"Not as such," he seemed to be making an effort to concentrate on her. Sakura forced the cogs and wheels of her own fuzzy mind to turn faster, and a dim light illuminated her mental horizon.

"You overused the Mangekyo Sharingan," she guessed.

Izuna closed his good eye momentarily and sketched a smile of approval. "Clever girl. Now, can we get inside please?"

Sakura turned and wobbled through the door, hissing under her breath at the pain in her ankle.

Inside was dusty and stuffy and the electricity refused to work when Sakura flipped the switch on the wall. She was hardly surprised, but it wasn't easy to get used to the idea of normal things no longer being available. She wanted to continue hoping irrationally that some oasis of her old life had survived intact. She kept looking for that oasis everywhere.

Near one of the walls stood a big couch, flanked on each side by an armchair. In the darkness the color was unidentifiable but Sakura knew it to be mud brown – it had been bought for Tsunade's office on the upper floor, but she had hated it, claiming that it put her in mind of toads and Jiraiya, and none of the two belonged inside a house. Shzune had tried to argue, mostly because she didn't want to expend extra money on a new couch, but Tsunade had remained adamant. In the end, they had put the undesired furniture in the hall on the ground floor where it tended to be occupied by various visitors awaiting the audience with the Fifth Hokage.

Sakura herself had often sat in one of the armchairs while she waited for Tsunade to stop shouting at some hapless shinobi or whispering behind the soundproof walls with an ANBU squad ready to be sent on a top-secret mission...

Izuna, completely oblivious to the fact that Sakura was taking a pleasant stroll down the Memory Lane, lurched forward, flopped down on the couch and lay still.

"What are you doing there, glued to the wall?" came his slightly puzzled voice, and Sakura resurfaced.

"Nothing," she grumbled, unhappy to be back in the world of sprained ankles, bleeding wounds and horrid monsters parading around like nobody's business. "Remembering things."

"Perfect timing," Izuna approved in a smug voice, and she scowled.

"I can see you're all fine there, aren't you, if you can manage smartass comments," she snapped, taking a tentative step away from the wall and regretting it immediately.

"And I can see what you're aiming at, but no, I'm not getting off this thing. Find your own couch. This one is mine."

" _What_? You know, most people would ask if I needed help."

"Do you need help, Sakura?"

"Hell, yes, I do. Unless you failed to notice, I'm bleeding to death here."

"And yet you have time to remember the good old days."

"And _you_ have the strength to drive me insane!"

"You make it sound like a competition..."

Her jaw dropped. "Seriously? I nearly got killed _twice_ , and you may pretend all you like but I won't believe you just went and used your Mangekyo Sharingan for the fun of it. And now you're spouting that bullshit? Are you for real?"

Izuna sighed in exasperation. "What do you want, Sakura? Haven't you noticed how easy it is to provoke you? You are a remarkable example of an absolute lack of self-control. Yes, I understand that you are hurt but what do you expect me to do about it? I won't croon over you to make you feel better. I'm not sure I'm even capable of crooning."

"Great, you've made me look like an idiot again." Sakura limped toward one of the armchairs and collapsed into it. "I don't need you to _croon_ over me... geez, what a horrible word, did you choose it on purpose?"

"What do _you_ think?"

"I'm pretty sure you did."

"See? You can answer a lot of questions yourself if only you get into the habit of actually using your brain regularly."

Sakura settled back in the armchair and yelped as her torn shoulder brushed against it. She shifted her position again to avoid contact.

"How do you do it?" she asked Izuna wearily, reaching down to probe at her swollen ankle with the fingers of her right hand. Even the lightest touch was painful. "Every time I talk to you, it's like... I don't know, but all our conversations get derailed, have you noticed? And before I know, we're talking about something completely unrelated. It happens every single time."

The mere thought of going up the stairs to Tsunade's office on the third floor horrified her. Several flights of stairs. But the much needed medical supplies would not be here in the waiting room.

Maybe she could hop her way up? What an awesome idea. Slightly suicidal though, in her current condition.

"I'm a man of many talents," said Izuna in a perfectly serious voice, and Sakura suddenly laughed.

It reverberated inside her, a wild, high-pitched sound, and then it tore out of her throat; and her ankle throbbed, and her shoulder felt like something big and unfriendly had sunk its teeth into it and was chewing slowly, taking its time.

She didn't know why she was laughing. It wasn't really funny, nothing at all was funny about the situation, and moreover, as she had already come to understand, any joke Izuna deigned to tell was never just a joke.

But she couldn't stop. Her whole body seemed to shake.

Izuna pushed himself up on one elbow and was now watching her silently through one eye. His face was completely emotionless.

Hilarious, wasn't it all just hilarious. Maybe she could barter with him? Why not? She had some goods to offer... She would promise to heal him – when her chakra returned – and he would go and fetch the bandages so she could survive _and_ heal him. When her chakra returned. Yes. Only she had no idea what she could do about the damage from the overuse of the Mangekyo Sharingan. No Uchiha had ever allowed her anywhere near his precious eyes. But she was Tsunade's apprentice, she'd figure it out. She had no choice but to figure it out. And of course she'd have to hurry up, because there was just no doubt something awful would befall her shortly and she'd get depleted again. It was a race against the time.

Why was he watching her like that? It was unnerving. And did he think one questionable joke was enough and now he could just wait for her to do all the talking? It took two to make a conversation, even a very bad one!

"Come on!" Sakura said in a painfully cheerful voice that sounded weird even to her own ears. She blinked because he suddenly blurred a little. She'd laughed so hard there were tears in her eyes now. "Say something! Or what do you think, we could celebrate our survival." She grinned at him. "There's probably booze around here! I bet I can find it, I'm... was... the Fifth's apprentice. Did I mention that? I know I did, but maybe you've forgotten..."

He said flatly, "You are hysterical."

"Oh sheesh! I'm fi –"

She saw him move and then her head snapped to the side, and there was a ringing in her ears, and the right side of her face burned. Her laughter cut off abruptly, like it had never happened. She felt empty.

Gingerly, she touched her fingers to her cheek. "Damn," she breathed out. "have you just _slapped_ me?"

"On any other day," Izuna said, very quietly, "I would have used the Sharingan. But I'm not at my best now. Deal with it." He was leaning over her, one hand gripping the back of the armchair tightly. "Where do I find bandages in this place? You said your Hokage was a medic."

"In the office on the third floor," Sakura replied in a small voice. "There'll be a first-aid kit... in one of the desk drawers maybe."

"Stay here and try not to bleed all over the floor," he bit out.

Sakura watched him leave the room steadying himself against the wall, and tried to wrap her mind around the fact that apparently he had just volunteered to help.

She rubbed her jaw. He hadn't really slapped her, he had hit her backhanded across the face, the bastard.

Not that she blamed him. A lot of shinobi would have reacted in the same way, likely even some of her friends unless they were afraid of getting chakra-punched across the village. A war-mongering Uchiha from one hundred years in the past could do much worse, and that was probably him getting all soft on her.

Sakura slumped forward, exhausted.

 _I would still love to get a chance to pay him back somehow._

-/-

Izuna pushed the door open and found himself in what could only be called primordial chaos. What kind of person could possibly work in an environment as cluttered as this?

Papers were the first thing he noticed, if only because they were literally all over the place. On every possible horizontal surface, and strewn across the floor, and piled high on the big desk and on the windowsill – they were everywhere. Izuna, a man who didn't know the meaning of the word bureaucracy, itched to set them on fire.

As another wave of dizziness hit him, he stumbled toward the desk, kicking aside what Sakura would recognize as urgent ANBU reports, and sank into the chair. There he sat for a couple of minutes, eyes closed, waiting for his head to stop spinning.

Just how much chakra had he thrown at that weird genjutsu back at the Hyuuga estate? There was no kill like overkill indeed. But oh well, he had won. He had survived, and that counted as winning. It was the only thing that counted at all. He just hoped he would be able to buy the next victory cheaper. He had never aspired to become a hero anyway.

Izuna thought about Sakura then.

Little Sakura with her ridiculous little dream of canceling Madara's jutsu and getting her old life back. It wasn't happening, not in a hundred lifetimes.

She was waiting for him down there, wasn't she? Waiting for him to help her...

He didn't even know why he was helping. What would have been easier than to walk – fine, _stagger_ – away as soon as she started to work herself into hysteria? And he had always despised hysterical people too. All that half-wheezing, half-sobbing hyena laughter mixed with senseless tears made him want to slam them headfirst into the wall and see if they felt like stopping. He should have abandoned Sakura earlier. When she had told him about her crazy plan of undoing the Infinite Tsukuyomi, that was when he should have waved her good-bye and hightailed it in the direction of pretty much any other place. And instead he'd stayed and done what?

Izuna leaned back in the chair and propped his feet on the desk, knocking more paperwork, as well as some other paraphernalia, down to the floor.

He concluded that he rather liked it here. There was something in the air – something other than dust – and it appealed to him. It felt like a place from which one could make things happen.

Well, Sakura had called it the Hokage's Residence, hadn't she?

Izuna cracked an eye open. So this was where Hashirama Senju, and then Tobirama too, damn him, had once sat, giving orders? This was what Madara had wanted so badly? It certainly looked rather dull and unassuming for a seat of high power, though. One would expect more lavish decorations...

A headwear sporting a character for _fire_ on its front screamed at Izuna of status and authority from its vantage point on top of one of the paper towers adorning the desk. It was mostly white in color. Something dark lay crumpled on the floor. Izuna considered it for a moment longer and guessed that the weird hat had to be the official Hokage garb. If you wanted to impress people and make them listen to you, the first move was to don a fancy hat. It was so crucial people had been known to wage wars over the right to do so.

Izuna reached up, plucked the hat from where it sat so proudly and put it on.

Nothing happened. He didn't feel any different except perhaps slightly stupid. Then he tried to imagine himself sitting in that office, lording it over several thousands ninja. His first decree would be to abolish all paperwork.

And then they would all start flocking to him, asking for advice, craving permissions, wanting to _talk_ –

Izuna cringed and ripped the hat off his head, letting it drop to the floor.

Maybe he simply wasn't cut out to be a leader.

The darkness was dissipating slowly. He swiveled the chair to face the window and there it was, the first gray light, barely there on the edge of the horizon, far away behind the treetops. It seemed feeble, but the dawn would break soon, and there would be matters to consider and facts to check.

He had forgotten about Sakura again.

That was odd. Why wasn't she raging yet? Where was all that fire and useless passion? Maybe she had died already. If so, he would pay the last honors and cremate her body with a moderately sized Majestic Destroyer Flame jutsu. It was appropriately grandiose and suited for the occasion. She was, after all, the last survivor of the end of the world.

And then, unless one counted Madara, lost who knew where, he would finally have the world to himself, just like he had always desired.

Solitude was great, wasn't it?

Izuna turned back to the desk and began to slide open the drawers. More paperwork, a boring-looking scroll, another scroll, weird stuff, paperwork, a promising-looking scroll concerning what appeared to be a Summoning jutsu –

He set aside the Summoning scroll and went back to perusing the contents of the drawers. In the bottom one, modestly concealed underneath a thin file labeled _Strictly Confidential_ , was a bottle made of dark glass. There was liquid inside. Izuna uncorked it, sniffed at the bottle neck and knew he had located the Hokage's secret booze mentioned by Sakura. He placed it on top of the desk and swept his gaze around the room, ignoring its attempts to spin and fall over.

Where had she said he should look...?

There were cabinets lining one of the walls, all of them closed. Several bookshelves on the other wall were stuffed with books, but nothing even remotely resembling bandages could be seen anywhere.

Izuna stood up, walked toward the cabinets and began to throw them open. Two were locked and he ripped the doors of their hinges without further ado. There were more of those documents with _Strictly Confidential_ and _Top Secret_ inscribed on them, and Izuna started to get annoyed. He wanted to read them all simply because they weren't meant for his eyes.

Maybe later he would.

There was a black-and-white box stuffed onto the top shelf of the cabinet before him. Izuna pulled it down and flipped open the lid.

Here they were, finally. The bandages he recognized, and there were also needles, vials... and of course, more of those future things he couldn't name, but logic dictated they must be related to medicine in one way or another, and Sakura likely knew what they were for.

Izuna retrieved the bottle and the scroll from the desk, tossed the alcohol into the box, snapping it closed again, and headed out.

Then he retraced his steps and picked the crumpled dark rag from the floor. It turned out to be a long-sleeved green haori with a single character emblazoned on the back. The character stood for _gamble._ Izuna decided to take that too.

The gray light filtering through the window grew brighter, and as he reached the ground floor and entered the room where he had left Sakura, he could discern her silhouette quite clearly. She was still sitting in the same chair, slumped over the armrest, her eyes closed and her features drawn into a tight grimace.

She stirred when he walked in, and shot him an accusatory glare. "Did you travel to the end of the earth to procure the bandages?"

"Almost." He mercilessly dumped the box in her lap, eliciting a curse out of her lips. "And take this," he said, throwing her the haori.

A cloud of dust spread through the air, and Sakura sneezed loudly. Izuna waited a moment to let it disperse, then sprawled on the couch again.

Finally. Finally he could rest.

"Why did you bring this?" Sakura asked in a tense voice.

She just didn't know when to shut up. "Why did I bring what?"

"The haori."

"I don't know," Izuna said lazily. "Maybe I thought you might eventually get tired of prancing around naked."

She gasped, indignant. "What the hell! I'm not naked! What are you saying!"

"Well, you are most certainly getting there. Don't stop on my account though. Feel free to divest yourself of the rest of your clothing."

"Get lost, you jerk," she growled, and there was the already familiar sound of the box being opened. "I sleep in these, just so you know! Not everyone in the world sleeps fully clothed and with a sword between their teeth, like you paranoid maniac!"

"Precisely the reason they end up just like you did."

"Oh, shove it, Izuna."

He didn't dignify that with a response and let his eyes shut again.

There was some clanking of vials, a soft _pop_ as she apparently opened one of them, a sharp intake of breath, indicating that she was in pain but was trying not show it.

"Why is the wine in the kit?" she muttered softly, obviously to herself. "That's not like her..."

"I put it in there," Izuna informed her.

" _You_ did? Why?"

"Because you asked for booze, obviously. Why else?"

"I was _hysterical_."

"I know. I was there."

She sighed. "Yeah, and you made your displeasure known."

"I didn't break your jaw, did I?"

"Don't get so full of yourself. You didn't. I'm not made of glass or anything."

"Then you have no reason to complain."

There was a short moment filled with activity of mysterious origin. Izuna discerned the sound of her skin sliding against the upholstery of the armchair, something being ripped, and generally a lot of shuffling about. Then she spoke.

"Izuna? I need your help."

"I'm not going anywhere again, Sakura. Not even if you drop dead. Please don't hesitate to drop dead."

"I'm not asking you to go anywhere. Help me with the bandages, will you?"

"What?"

"I can't very well bandage my shoulder all by myself, you know. It's pretty hard bandaging anything when I can only use one hand, much less a part of my body I can hardly see..."

Izuna stifled a groan and sat up again. Yes, there was Sakura, perched on the very edge of the seat, one leg twisted awkwardly, likely to prevent her injured ankle from brushing against the floor or to avoid putting her weight on it accidentally. There was considerably less blood as she must have washed – or wiped – it off somehow, and he could see that indeed, there was a long, narrow wound starting near her collar bone and going all the way across her shoulder and her upper back. She had already applied some medicine, because the bleeding had stopped and the raw skin around the edges glistened unnaturally.

Well, she was right. She did need help.

"Get over here," Izuna snapped. She looked like she might want to argue, but then chose to keep her mouth shut.

 _Good girl_ , Izuna thought darkly.

She pushed herself up carefully and hopped on one foot toward the couch. Handing him the bandages, she sat down, her back to him, and fidgeted nervously. Izuna spared a moment to puzzle over the fact that she seemed so agitated for some unknown reason, then decided he didn't care. She was weird enough as it was.

Up close he could see the jagged edges of the wound and knew it couldn't have been inflicted with a blade.

"How did you get injured?"

"The Tree attacked me."

Izuna stared at the back of her head. "The Tree? Where?"

"In my apartment," she said. "It chased me all over the village." Then she added sourly, "I hate your brother."

"Why are you still alive and relatively healthy then?"

"I don't know," She turned slightly, letting him pass the bandage under her arm. "I've been thinking about it ever since, trying to figure out how it sensed me..."

"Any luck?"

"I sort of feel like I'm close to the real answer," she replied, a little distractedly. "I just can't seem to finish that thought."

"In other words, you have no idea."

"Must you always be like that?"

"Like what?"

"Oh, forget it." She was silent for a second, letting him finish his work and secure the bandage. Then she turned to face him. There were dark circles under her eyes, her jaw was swollen where he'd hit her, and her hair was a mess. But her expression was as hard and determined as ever. "The Tree," she said slowly, "it doesn't see or hear or smell us. I thought maybe it could sense me as I ran because the ground vibrated."

"That seems like a plausible theory," Izuna agreed. "And?"

"I don't think that's what it is."

"Why not?"

"Because I ran out of chakra and fell from the roof," she said bitterly, and Izuna didn't know if he should laugh or get frustrated. "Yeah, I know, don't say anything please. Anyway... if my theory was correct, I wouldn't be sitting here now. The roots came up all around me. There were I don't know how many of them."

"And then what happened?"

"They went back under the ground. I don't know why. I had no way to defend myself and they just up and left."

Izuna thought about it. "Fine. And before that?"

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

"What were you doing when you got attacked?"

"Oh... I was fighting actually." She chewed on her lip – a bad habit of hers, as Izuna had already come to realize. "I don't know for sure but I think that maybe I was fighting a genjutsu. I've been meaning to ask you about this too."

A genjutsu.

Izuna was suddenly interested.

"Tell me, Sakura."

And she did.

-/-

Of course he wanted to gloat. He couldn't resist.

"So you absolutely had to put yourself between the moon and a mirror and fall asleep there. I must say that you picked the worst possible time for that."

"I was trying analyze the situation, you know, to make some progress. Not moon gazing."

"The question remains valid."

"Well, how could I know it was unsafe to even look at the moon? And you didn't ask a question, you just talked down to me again."

"The moon is _bright_ _red_ , Sakura. One might consider the fact a dead give away."

"There's a lot of incongruity there, by the way. Why is it red? I'm pretty sure it was blindingly white when your awesome brother cast his awesome jutsu."

"Why are you glaring at _me_ , Sakura? My name is not Madara..."

"Huh! It might as well be."

-/-

"Izuna."

"Yes?"

"Don't just sprawl there like it's your day off. Talk to me."

"I _am_ talking to you. Unfortunately."

"I mean about the Tree."

"Sakura, out of the two of us, who has met the Tree in person?"

"I have. But you always have something to say, especially the nasty stuff, so I thought you might want to be useful for once."

"Fine. Here I go – think about what you were doing every time the Tree attacked you and look for logic there. Although I doubt that you will recognize it even if it spits you in the face."

"Thanks, Izuna. I love you too."

-/-

And even if they were getting somewhere, it was impossible to see with a naked eye.

"Why do I have that strange feeling like I must squeeze every word out of you, Izuna?"

"Has anyone ever told you that you are pushy, overbearing and don't know when to shut up?"

"Has anyone ever told you that you're arrogant and insufferable and madly in love with yourself?"

"Yes. You. I've lost count. Except for the last one, it's the first time I hear that."

"No worries, I'll be sure to remind you again."

"Can't wait."

-/-

"I really don't get it. Why can't you explain things properly? Or do you just like being petty and vindictive? It's like you always keep something away from me. You want to torment me slowly? What's your crazy master plan?"

"Sakura."

"Yeah, what?"

"I'm not a magic oracle. And I'm not my brother. I feel compelled to point out that I have already mentioned that. Several times."

"Alright, listen –"

"No, _you_ listen, Sakura. I did not cast the Infinite Tsukuyomi. I never saw the World Tree in my entire life. I didn't send any genjutsu to crawl out of your mirror and bite your head off."

"I never said any of that!"

"No, but you keep asking me question after question, and then you get offended when I don't answer, and you glare at me like a cat that's got its tail stepped on. Let me clarify this for you – I don't answer because I don't _know_ the answer. I can only hypothesize, same as you did about the World Tree. Being Madara's brother doesn't enable me to read his mind. If you crave information that badly, you should stop wasting time on me."

"Wasting time..."

"Yes, go seek out Madara. You seem to be quite fixated on him as it is. Ask him. You are a persistent little thing, so why don't you go and make him talk? What do you think? Sounds like a crazy master plan, doesn't it?"

-/-

Outside, the birds began to sing again.

Her back against the couch, legs outstretched, Sakura was sitting on the floor, brooding and feeling sorry for herself. She was in a dismal mood and so tired that her mind seemed to be functioning on autopilot. She had put on Tsunade's haori too – not because she needed it, but because after Izuna had made his disgusting little comment she couldn't banish some really disturbing images from her mind. She kept pushing them out, locking all possible metaphorical doors and barring windows, and they sneaked right back and presented themselves for further inspection.

She pulled the dusty haori tight around herself and sank deeper into gloomy contemplation.

Once again, her conversation with Izuna had spiraled out of control. She wasn't all that surprised, not anymore, and the important thing was that he'd helped her after all, wasn't it? She simply couldn't stand the idea of never-relenting tension and mistrust hanging around them both like a cloud of poisonous gas. She had never been in a similar situation before.

Well, there had been sort of a close call, back when Sai had entered the Team Seven. Sakura recalled the day vividly, all the details – Naruto's indignation that the place reserved for Sasuke had been given away, Sai's deadpan comments, her own fake smile...

She felt ashamed of the annoyance and enmity she had felt toward Sai at first. Now she knew he was a good person, a really amazing person, quite frankly, considering the circumstances of his life, and somehow she didn't think that not knowing about them was any excuse. Her head told her that no, of course she was not to blame, but her heart ached in remorse.

And she thought, _what if Izuna has a dark secret like that too, and I don't know about it? And when I find out it will be too late._

He acted like a jerk, sure... but so had Sai, who had been a royal pain in the ass, and then he had proved to be one of her best friends, brave and loyal.

She just didn't want to make any mistakes. Kakashi had taught them the importance of teamwork and she shared his philosophy whole-heartedly _._ Her teammates – her friends – were the most precious thing she had. Not because they would protect her in danger, or because carrying out a mission together was easier and safer, but because they were part of her. That was why Sasuke's departure had dealt such a huge blow to them all. He had taken a chunk of their lives away, had slashed open something that was alive and left it bleeding.

Izuna was a different matter though. Well, she kept telling herself that but somehow it wasn't working. Maybe the getting along thing was so deeply ingrained in her that even the idea of trying out another modus operandi bounced off her thick head and resulted in a shock.

She wanted to find a peaceful way of interacting with him, but the waves of her efforts crashed against the steep cliffs of his unbearable arrogance, so to speak, and it was game over again and again, and she had to start from square one every time. Or perhaps it wasn't arrogance or not _only_ arrogance, maybe there were underlying motives too.

Of course there were. His crappy personality had originated somewhere. She just couldn't fathom the reason behind it.

Why hadn't he abandoned her yet? Izuna didn't find her particularly endearing either and he was in a better shape than her, so why had he chosen to stay in that room, on Tsunade's old couch, instead of leaving her behind in a puff of road dust?

In the morning twilight, Sakura listened to him breathe, a soft, even sound that made her long for something she was unable to name or define. It crept up her spine and coiled like a noose around her neck, and her throat clenched painfully. It kept to the darkest corners of her mind, lingered there, waited for her to gather up her courage and discover it.

She was afraid to dive in there and find out what dwelt in the murky depths. If she did, what if she couldn't erase the memory of it afterwards? What if the knowledge changed her?

Being alone sucked. She was beginning to think all sorts of nonsense.

Also, Izuna was totally faking sleep.

Sakura slid him a reproachful glance over her bandaged shoulder.

"You're not sleeping, are you?"

There was a pause. His face was half-hidden by a hand thrown over his eyes to shield them from the light that had been growing steadily brighter.

Sakura waited, and then he said. "No."

"Why not?"

"I'm thinking."

 _Of course_ he was thinking. He was always thinking, "About today?"

"About everything."

She huffed. "Are you being deliberately vague again?"

"No."

"Well, what kind of answer was that just now?"

"A truthful one. I really think about a lot of things at the same time."

She continued to watch him but he hadn't moved at all. Maybe the sight of her face repulsed him. It must be her large forehead.

 _Where has that come from!?_

"It must be awfully crowded inside your head then," she told him. "Don't you get tired?"

He chuckled. "All the time."

His voice seemed to shake something loose inside her heart, and she was lost, adrift in unknown waters again, meandering through a no man's land under a strange sky full of stars she had never seen before.

 _I wish I could pick someone else as my sole companion at the end of the world,_ she thought with some irritation. _Someone a little less complicated would be nice. Someone reliable._

Everything about Izuna made her feel... _fragile_ somehow. Not scared or nervous, she had only thought that at first because those were the things that came to mind readily. Enemies wanted to frighten you, allies liked to keep you in the dark, but those were conscious efforts. Those were intentions. Plans. Sakura was pretty good at dealing with them because she kept her feet firmly on the ground at all times, knew where she was going and kept her eyes trained on the final destination. She never doubted where her allegiances lay or which side she was on. She was kind and tended to see good in people, even in those who wished to hurt her, but she never allowed it to influence her sense of justice.

And that was exactly why she couldn't figure Izuna out, she realized. There could never be a person more different from her than Izuna.

Nothing at all was certain with him. He questioned everything but at the same time he doubted nothing. He contradicted himself and then it turned out there had never been a contradiction in the first place. He went in all directions at once, or at least that was how it looked to Sakura. His mere presence made her lose her footing. Her defensive mechanisms didn't work when Izuna was around. All she believed in fell apart, as if he were drawing her into his own world where nothing was what it seemed, and any gust of the wind could blow her away and over the edge.

She didn't appreciate the feeling. Only now she was beginning to suspect that he wasn't doing it on purpose, to spite her or throw her off balance. He was just naturally like that, all shifting sands and mirages and reflected light. It was simply that his pull was too strong.

There was something almost hypnotic about Izuna.

How the stiff and rigid Uchiha clan had managed to produce someone like him was beyond Sakura's understanding.

But she said none of this out loud. It would be horrible and awkward and he would call her crazy.

Silence stretched between them, and it was neither heavy, not comfortable, it just was. How could she know if he wanted to sleep or talk or be left alone? And of course if she asked him directly, he'd give an answer that could be interpreted in half a dozen ways. It was all one big question mark with him.

Another idea occurred to her, and she said, "You never told me your own story."

He stirred. "There is no story."

"Yes, there is. What brought you here? And how did you come back to life? You never said anything."

"You never asked."

Sakura turned to frown at him. "I told you all sorts of things about what had happened to us, didn't I? I just assumed that you would also share, you know. That's what people do. Most people, anyway," she added pointedly.

"Well, I'm not most people." Izuna pulled his hand away from his face and stared at it.

Sakura couldn't see his expression clearly, and his hair, eyes and the dried blood on his cheek were all equally black in the gray light of the early morning. He didn't look particularly pleased though. Wincing slightly, he dropped his hand to the couch and shut his eyes again.

"What's up?" she asked and knew, to her chagrin, that she was actually a little worried.

"Nothing. It will pass." He went quiet for a moment, letting Sakura stew in her juices and fret over the fact that she was fretting. Then he said. "As for the story, as you call it, there's not much to it. I woke up at home – one of the hideouts of our clan, Sakura, far from here – and realized that I was alone, alive and able to see, and none of the three made sense. I left the hideout and came here accidentally. I didn't even know this place existed."

"Wait, you mean you _knew_ you were supposed to be dead..."

"Of course. I remember dying."

Again, she was reminded of how little she knew about Izuna, how little information the history of the village had preserved. It was probably only to be expected – he had died before the Founding and there was no reason for Konoha to bother with him. Maybe the Uchiha clan used to keep their own, more detailed chronicles, but even if it was the case, they wouldn't have shared them with anyone. And then Pein had come and laid waste to the village, and the decaying Uchiha district had got wiped off the face of the earth, never to be rebuilt.

"I only know that you were killed by the Second Hokage," she said cautiously.

Gods, what was the right way to talk to someone about their early and unfortunate death at the hand of their mortal enemy? Did he find it insulting? Did he wish he could rewind the time and replay the fight with Tobirama Senju? Did he maybe want to talk about it? Well, the latter version sounded as believable as a snowfall in the middle of summer.

"Indeed you are right," Izuna replied dispassionately. "I got wounded and died two days after the battle. And I gave my Sharingan to Madara so he could protect the clan and avenge my death. But I'm sure you know that."

 _Madara changed after his brother's death_ , whispered Hashirama Senju's distant voice in her mind; a sad voice of a man who had learned to live with his regrets because that was the price he had to pay for his dreams. _Things would have been different if Izuna hadn't died._

How different would they have been? How different would Madara's life have been? The thought was like a knife plunged into her gut.

If not for the death of this one man, Sakura thought, maybe Madara would have never felt so bitter and lonely, would have never left or tried to destroy Konoha. The battle at the Valley of the End wouldn't have happened. The massacre of the Uchiha clan wouldn't have happened. Itachi wouldn't have been forced into a corner. Sasuke would have grown up in a full family, surrounded by people who loved him.

The world wouldn't have ended.

All that just because one wrong person had died at the wrong time.

"I know what you're thinking."

Sakura startled, feeling guilty and angry at herself, at her own face for betraying the doubts that gnawed at her heart. "Am I really that obvious?"

"Very much so, I'm afraid."

"Maybe that's the reason I was never sent on any infiltration missions," she ventured, trying to lighten the mood.

Izuna turned his head to regard her with mild curiosity. "What kind of missions did you get then?"

"Team medic. And the ones where I could demolish things."

"Seems to suit your temperament just right."

"I guess... And I shouldn't have been thinking that, I know. It's really unfair to you. I'm sorry."

One corner of his mouth twisted in a lopsided smile. "Don't be."

"Why?"

"Because I'm thinking about it too."

As she gazed into his black eyes, Sakura searched frantically for a response that would sound appropriate.

Nothing turned up.

"Ehm," she said lamely, "let's get back to busniess, shall we? And what was that fire earlier? Who did you fight?"

"Ah well," said Izuna, sitting up and pushing his bangs out of his face with a hand. "What, not who. A genjutsu." And then he _grinned_ at her. "Tonight, or rather last night, the magic was in the air."

Sakura coughed.

-/-

* * *

 _(to be continued)_

* * *

A/N: everyone wants to wear a fancy hat. It's a well-known fact! XD

Please, drop me a review, they make my day. Yay.


	13. Speaking Softly

**Chapter 12**

( _speaking softly_ )

-/-

 _Eastward of all, where the sea recalls_  
 _The storm has scattered scales_  
 _Of dragons, turtle shells_  
 _We bow down unto pure silence_  
 _That rules beyond the banished land_  
 _At evening-fall, eastward of all_  
 _  
Where the wind of the one recollection rises._

– **François Cheng** , _Eastward Of All_

-/-

 _What's up with this attitude all of a sudden?_

Taken aback, Sakura tried to maintain composure and figure out what meanness he could be up to.

 _What's he scheming now?_

She had no doubt whatsoever that any unexpected shift of mood exhibited by Izuna was fueled by the cognitive process that seemed to go on non-stop in his head. What unspeakable horrors lurked there, she didn't know, but he was entirely too unpredictable for her tastes. With him around, there would be no relaxing, no kicking back to enjoy the show.

What she liked even less was the fact that she was apparently beginning to get used to his antics in a wrong way. She had started thinking girly thoughts in his presence – about her appearance and her state of ugh, _relative undress_ ; she had begun to worry about him, if only a tiny bit – as if it mattered how he felt or what his opinion of her was, or if he was in pain!

Because it shouldn't matter to her. At all. He was not her friend. He was not a teammate. Not even a colleague or a fellow Konoha shinobi. He was the brother of the enemy and very nearly an enemy himself; a man who had tried to kill her, who had violated her privacy – violated her mind – and kept his intentions hidden even until this very moment.

 _This guy,_ said her inner self in a peevish voice, _is as reliable as a frigging earthquake._ And added with a disgusting giggle, _but he has Sasuke's face on him, so it's alright!_

Sakura imagined kicking herself out of the window.

Hell, if she continued in that direction, she'd only end up in the unmapped territory of personal and emotional, and this was _not_ where she intended to venture in the company of Madara's brother. It hadn't gone well with Sasuke either, but loving Sasuke was her own choice and an important part of her life, whereas Izuna just happened to temporarily hang around. And he wasn't even doing a very good job of it. Getting all friendly with him would be a terrible decision.

She wanted to label him somehow, put him on a neat shelf inside her mind and make sure he stayed there so she could feel safe in his presence, but unfortunately, problems began right at the first stage of the plan.

"Was it the same genjutsu that attacked me?" she asked, stomping on her anxiety so it wouldn't get in the way of the conversation.

"No, of course not," Izuna replied. "Sorry to say, but the genjutsu that attacked you was likely the result of your own brainless behavior."

Oh yeah, here was the meanness. She was right about him. "Are you saying that I cast genjutsu upon myself?" Sakura inquired sarcastically.

"You put yourself in its way," Izuna shrugged nonchalantly. "I warned you about the amplifying effects of mirrors. It was careless of you to sit near one with the Infinite Tsukuyomi active in the world."

"Can you even hear yourself?" she snapped. "If the mirror served to amplify the effect of the Tsukuyomi, I should have seen myself all happy in Konoha in times of abiding peace!"

"Well, you saw your Sasuke returning to you." Something flickered in his eyes, and she couldn't say if it was disdain or mockery or something else entirely.

 _Who cares what he thinks. No one, that's who!_

She pointed a finger at him. "Yes, and I also saw a horrible monster that looked like me, trying to claw its way out of the mirror! How do you explain that, you smartass?"

Izuna rubbed at the dried blood on his face with the back of his hand, then said. "That _is_ quite odd. However..." He looked almost hesitant for a moment, then went on. "I'm not generally in the habit of voicing theories I'm not sure are correct, Sakura, but since you have already accused me of deliberately withholding information from you, this one time, I will tell you. Against my better judgment."

A sense of foreboding stole over Sakura, but she plunged on stubbornly.

"Just who do you think I am? You think I can't deal with the truth or what?"

His smiled. "That depends. As you have quite correctly noted, the Infinite Tsukuyomi should transfer you into the world of your dreams. But dreams, Sakura, are nothing but the product of your subconsciousness. Of your imagination, if you will, although I, personally, detest the word for being overused."

"So what?" She pursed her lips trying to guess what creepiness awaited ahead.

"That being said, I'm sure you know that there is much, much more to your subconsciousness than your wish for peace and your touching but unrequited love for my one remaining clansman. All the things you are not even aware of, all your little hopes and fears and the unfulfilled desires you're ashamed of – yes, everyone has those, Sakura, no need to go red in the face – all that you've locked up somewhere because you hate to look at it, it's all there. Nothing is ever lost."

She was beginning to suspect she knew where he was heading. She almost asked him to stop.

Except she was a kunoichi prepared to deal with the truth so she stuck her chin out and glared at him defiantly.

Izuna seemed to find it infinitely amusing.

"If the Tsukuyomi is a mechanism that brings all those things – let's call them dreams for the sake of simplicity – out of the dark and to the forefront of your mind, makes them manifest, yes? then, from a purely technical point of view, there should be no difference as to what _kind_ of dreams it forces you to experience. And some dreams are, after all, nightmares."

"Are you saying that I myself dreamed up that horrible monster?" Sakura blurted out in disbelief. "And it had my own face!"

Izuna laughed. "Makes perfect sense to me. You of all people should be afraid of yourself. From what I've seen, Sakura, you are indeed your own worst enemy."

"What the hell do you mean!?"

He waved a hand. "Calm down. What I said applies to most people to an extent, and it's not the issue right now anyway."

"What's the issue then?"

"You may think what you like about my brother, Sakura, but according to your own words, Madara wanted people to be happy in their dreams. He didn't cast the Tsukuyomi to inflict pain on anyone. He would have left you all awake for _that_."

Sakura took a moment to digest the information, then admitted reluctantly that she could offer no objections so far.

She said "If that's all true, what's going on?"

Izuna raised a eyebrow. "How would I know? That is precisely the reason I didn't want to discuss this. However, since we are already on the subject... as I told you, I also fought a genjutsu."

"Yes." she frowned. "You never said anything coherent about that either."

"I'm about to, right now. I did fight a genjutsu, and it was a very powerful one. However, unlike you, I'm not careless enough to play around with mirrors and I have the Sharingan, as you perhaps recall."

"As if I could forget that," Sakura muttered sullenly, the details of the first meeting with Izuna still unpleasantly fresh in her memory.

He ignored her comment. "The Sharingan makes the wielder largely immune to the genjutsu in general, and even against another Sharingan-user it gives plenty of opportunity to recognize the illusion for what it is and retaliate. Normally, you confront the caster and kill them, of course."

Sakura perked up. "Yeah, I know that... so there's someone else? If it's not Madara, then someone's else is awake and doing that stuff?"

 _When I find them, I'll kick them into the next week. No, I'll bash their head, break all their bones, including very small ones, and then I will jump on them many times, up and down, up and down_.

"No." Izuna gave her a chilling smile she didn't like one bit. "There was no caster. It was an independent illusion. And a very, very good one at that. You dispelled yours by breaking the mirror and destroying your own reflection, which proves that you were the origin of it. Well," he added thoughtfully," there are still some aspects of it that don't make sense, but that's as good an explanation as I can offer right now. Later, perhaps... Regardless, I couldn't do anything like that, because the central component of the illusion at least had nothing to do with me."

"But you won..."

"I did."

"And you used the Mangekyo Sharingan. I saw the flames, too. Wasn't it the Amaterasu? You destroyed the genjutsu, right?"

His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You know about the Amaterasu?"

"Sasuke and Itachi could both use it, so yeah, I do. Only..," she gazed up at him, "the flames are supposed to be black, aren't they? Why were yours different?"

She remembered the fire, distant and ghostly, a color that had no name, darker than the darkness itself, and yet illuminated somehow, lit up from within, aglow with a light that no eye could truly see.

Izuna looked away and remained silent for the longest moment. "Because it was not the Amaterasu," he said finally. "It was a genjutsu."

Sakura felt the world grind to a halt, screeching. What was he saying?

"Excuse me... You mean _you_ cast a genjutsu? A genjutsu to fight another genjutsu?"

"I did."

"No one does that!"

"No, they don't." Izuna looked almost serene. And bored. "But I do."

"But that's _impossible!_ " she insisted.

Pushing herself up off the floor, she climbed onto the couch so she could see him better. Was it a joke? Another awfully funny example of the Uchiha sense of humor? If so, she would hate to know what family parties used to be like in his time.

"I'm not a genjutsu user," she said, deliberately slowly, as she leaned closer, "but I've been inside it many times, and I know that you dispel an illusion, not add to it. And you confirmed that too. You dispel the illusion and kill the caster!"

"Yes." He hadn't moved away, and Sakura could very nearly hear his heartbeat in the silence. It was calm and steady. "Normally."

"Normally?" she echoed. " _Normally_? What good can another illusion do? Especially if there's no caster, like you told me? How can you fix the reality by twisting it even more?" She searched for an explanation on his face, for any sign of what he might have actually meant.

She wished it would be a stupid, misplaced joke. She had seen what a Sharingan genjutsu could do to the world, and she wanted nothing more than to be reassured that there would be no further surprises. It was bad enough that she now had to beware of mirrors and suspect her own mind of playing tricks on her.

But Izuna only held her gaze.

"Say something," she whispered – almost pleaded.

"You can't fix the reality by twisting it more. You can only break it."

Silence fell around them. Sakura felt very peaceful, like someone already aware of the dark inevitability of the future and still walking toward it, reaching out to grasp it in a sort of suicidal trance.

She leaned back and said in level tone, "Break how exactly?"

"In many ways. For example, I'll have you know that your precious village is a little smaller now than it used to be. And the Hyuuga clan no longer owns any land in Konoha."

"You burned... or whatever it was you did... the whole estate?"

"No." He smiled again, a slow, cold smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I only mean that starting from this night, their estate has never even been there. There is simply nowhere for it to have been."

-/-

It was afternoon, and in the Konoha hot springs Izuna was contemplating menu options. They were abysmally poor. He ducked under the water, resurfaced, pushed wet hair out of his eyes and went over the list again in his mind.

Duck. Pigeon. Rabbit, if he went out into the woods. Fish, if he cared to hang around the banks of the river for a couple of hours. Sakura's rice crackers.

No, not the crackers. Not even if he starved.

Of course, he could wait until nightfall and go hunt nightingales. If he caught up to three dozen he might be able to prepare a dish that was considered a delicatessen in one of the far-off lands he'd visited during his travels. Any less, though, and there wouldn't be anything to eat, they were really small birds. Izuna imagined Sakura's reaction if he suggested eating nightingales. He snorted with laughter. It was almost worth the trouble.

But not quite.

He threw his head back and gazed up into the summer sky scorched by the blazing sun. He wondered what Sakura might be doing.

His explanation of the events of the previous night had had a most surprising effect. Izuna had expected the disbelief, and that would have been only natural; and he had been fully prepared to deal with any emotional outburst including name-calling and shrieks of ' _you Uchiha bastards are the plague and the curse that destroys all it touches!_ '.

But Sakura had taken it much worse.

Well, it had actually been better on the outside – for him at least, because she hadn't gone hysterical again, nor had she tried to make a scapegoat out of him.

Instead, she had paled even more than he had thought was possible, pursed her lips and stood up on shaking legs.

"I hope you will excuse me," she said in a voice that bordered on inaudible, "but I don't think I can continue this conversation until I see the proof of your words with my own eyes. This is just... too preposterous."

"What, you are going there now? In your condition?"

"Yeah, I am." and with that she had turned around and limped slowly toward the door. She had not added anything else.

Izuna had watched her leave in the same deafening silence and realized he couldn't very well think of anything worthy of saying either. So he had refrained from saying anything.

The door had clicked shut behind her, and then her shuffling footsteps had faded away as well. He lay still for some time, thinking about nothing in particular, too tired to think, too tired to decide how he felt about the situation – and then he fell asleep and for once, he didn't dream at all.

When he woke up again, it was well past midday, his head ached dully and so did his back – courtesy of the wonderfully comfortable couch – and Sakura hadn't returned. Izuna had shrugged, put her out of his mind and headed for the hot springs where he soaked for another hour.

Now he was getting slightly bored. And very hungry.

On the upside, his right eye didn't seem to have suffered any lasting damage. He could still see as sharply as he used to... not that Izuna was fooling himself – another eventful night like that and the process would certainly begin.

On the downside, he had even more questions now than he had believed was possible under the circumstances.

Despite the explanation he had fed to Sakura, her story bothered him. Not the Tree part – that was actually rather understandable, although it remained unclear what served as the catalyst of its activity. But Izuna didn't doubt that either Sakura would eventually figure it out – and tell him, wouldn't she? – or the damn thing would attack again, thus providing more information for analysis.

The genjutsu though...

He hadn't lied when he told her his version of events; she had obviously brought it on herself, and the mirror had undoubtedly amplified the effect. The part of illusion where she had seen her beloved Sasuke come back to her to stay by her side forever had Infinite Tsukuyomi written all over it. Basically, it was the same dream she had originally seen inside Madara's genjutsu. But the other half made little sense.

Or rather, it made all the sense in the world, but only in one case.

Only in one case, yes.

Izuna sighed and pulled himself out of the water. The situation was getting all kinds of interesting, in a disturbing, dangerous way.

He dressed himself in a new, clean set of clothes he had borrowed from the same store as the previous one, and rejoiced briefly at the idea of black being, perhaps, the only color that never went out of fashion.

He tugged at his ponytail absent-mindedly and headed for the river.

-/-

It was not there. Izuna had told her the truth.

It was simply not there, and not a trace of it ever being there was anywhere to be found, no matter how hard she looked for it.

Sakura stared blindly at the row of houses lining the street, at the lush green foliage of the trees and bushes, and the lazy afternoon shadows, lengthening slowly, straining to reach each other and embrace.

Of the Hyuuga estate – a big, wide stretch of land – nothing remained at all. If Sakura hadn't grown up in Konoha, knowing for sure it was here, had been there for decades, if she hadn't walked by every other day, if she had never been invited by Hinata to come over for a cup of tea, _if, if, if_ –

She could go on forever, listing things that made the Hyuuga clan as well as their lands an integral part of the village life, but as she looked around now, even she was forced to remind herself that she had not dreamed them up, and they really lived here.

 _Had_ lived here, because obviously they no longer did. _Must_ have have lived here, because what would she make of her memories if she allowed herself to doubt that even for a moment? _Might_ have lived here, because where else would they have lived?

Sakura bit her lip, her hands balling into fists, nails digging into the flesh of her palms. Her injured leg wobbled. Her vision blurred. She took a couple of careful steps to the left and sank down to the ground in the shade offered hospitably by one of the houses. She leaned against the sun-warmed surface of the wall and closed her eyes.

The silence of the summer afternoon pressed in on all sides. It buzzed in her ears with the voices of a thousand invisible insects, with the unrelenting rhythm of their beating wings, and Sakura felt like her head was about to explode.

The world tingled gently, impossible fragile, breakable to point where a mere breath could make it shatter. The reality seemed to be slipping away.

How could she be sure she was not inside a genjutsu now? How did she know if what she saw now was real? She remembered the Hyuuga estate so well, but now there was nothing, not even scorched ground, or ruins and rubble, or left-over personal possessions. Not even the place where the houses had stood remained. The edge of the forest had drawn closer, and the houses that used to be far apart from each other were now neighbors, but that was only what _she_ thought because that was how she remembered things.

But nothing hinted at their presence now. Their entire existence seemed to have been wiped away, the whole clan, many people with their lives and loves, triumphs and tragedies, not even forgotten or neglected, but simply cut out of the history without pity or consideration.

Sakura opened her eyes and looked at her hands. They seemed real at least. The shape of her fingernails (mostly broken and badly in need of some manicure), the thin twisting lines on her palms (this one for long life, that one for great love – haha!). Everything was familiar, but for how long? Would she recognize her own reflection in the mirror next time she looked into one or would she see a stranger?

Would she see a monster from the night before?

Would she see nothing perhaps?

Sakura let her hands drop into her lap and blinked tiredly, trying in vain to stop before that line of thinking led her past the point of no return and into some neverwhere and neverwhen that would swallow her whole. She let her head fall back against the wall.

Alright. She would have to believe that what she was seeing now was real or else everything would crumble.

Izuna's cold smile flashed across her mind.

 _You can't fix the reality by twisting it more. You can only break it._

Sakura tried to wrap her head around his words and extract the underlying meaning; examined them closely one by one, strove to piece the puzzle together.

No one countered genjutsu with genjutsu. It was useless. Even those who specialized in illusions used genjutsu on the _opponent_ in order to trick them and gain advantage, not on the opponent's illusion – that would achieve nothing, wouldn't it? Illusions were not real.

Itachi's Tsukuyomi hadn't killed Kakashi. It had broken his mind but it hadn't been real in a physical sense of the word. Even Madara's Infinite Tsukuyomi, no matter how powerful and overwhelming, still affected the minds of its victims, not their bodies. Madara had brought the World Tree into the picture to remedy that.

Logically, that would mean that Izuna had lied. Either he hadn't fought a genjutsu but rather something else, or he hadn't used a genjutsu to fight whatever it was he had fought. Or he hadn't lied, but was mistaken about the possibility of such a method having any effect.

Except the Hyuuga clan might as well have never existed now.

Sakura couldn't think of a single jutsu that could... unravel the world? undo not the turn of the events, but the physical, material plane? un-create things? She wasn't sure how she should even phrase it. To imagine that a genjutsu could result in something like this seemed impossible.

But Izuna hadn't looked particularly flabbergasted. He hadn't hesitated. He was slightly irritated and maybe discomfited, disconcerted about some particularities, but the certainty with which he had stated that a combination of genjutsu could tamper with the reality left little room for doubt.

He must have seen that before more than once. Must have done it himself.

 _A genjutsu to fight another genjutsu?_ _No_ _one does that!_

 _They don't. But I do._

Sakura felt a sense of dread and panic stir somewhere in the pit of her stomach. Just what the hell was he? Why wasn't it in the history chronicles? And what did it entail – now, in the world devastated by the Tsukuyomi? What did he want? And how was she supposed to distinguish between his lies and his truths?

And just as she thought this, Sakura knew something else, knew it as if the knowledge had been there all along, only she had avoided looking at it and now she could no longer pretend.

She could not escape Izuna Uchiha. She could not leave him or make him go away or kill him. She would have to stay with him until the end, whatever the end would be.

It had nothing to do with strength or weakness, with chakra levels and the Sharingan. It was the way the destiny wove the great tapestry of all life in the world, the way the universe functioned, all its laws and rules and algorithms twining together, united as one to play one final melody.

She didn't get to choose the tune she liked or the dance she would dance. She didn't get to choose who she would save the world with because she would never choose right. And perhaps all the people she might pick for the task – all her friends, strong and kind and loyal – would never serve.

Only one bloodline limit to make a man into a god.

Only one bloodline limit to make a god into a destroyer of all life.

Only one bloodline limit to erase what had been wrought?

She didn't know how Izuna had come back to life. She didn't care.

He was the centerpiece of the greatest scheme of all, she was sure of it. There could never be so many coincidences. His proficiency with genjutsu – right when and where it was needed the most. His life that was the same as Madara's, yet different; his blood that was Madara's blood; his eyes that he had given to Madara but now had them again.

The eyes that had become the first ever Rinnegan since the Sage of the Six Paths had passed away centuries ago.

The eyes that had brought about the end of the world.

Izuna fit right there, in the center of it all, in a place where one snowflake could start an avalanche, where one decision made at the right moment could determine the outcome of the events. She didn't know when or how, but somewhere in the future there would be something only he could do.

She didn't have the Sharingan or his chakra, she was not related to Madara, she knew nothing about genjutsu. She could not dispel the Tsukuyomi herself, it was high time she'd faced the fact.

But Izuna was everything she was not. And he was here with her, even though he was supposed to be long dead.

There would only be one chance, wouldn't there? One chance to set things right.

She would have to believe in that. She couldn't miss it.

Sakura drew a deep breath and got to her feet slowly. It was time to go and do things. Soon enough her chakra would be back and she would heal herself. But she didn't have the luxury of lazying around until then.

She had to talk to Izuna.

She had to make him answer a couple of questions.

She had to decide on an actual plan and make him agree to go along with it.

Great. Just great. Already she could see it going wrong in a million ways.

Izuna might be the centerpiece indeed, but he obviously didn't care much about saving the day, and if it really fell to her to figure out how to make things right again, couldn't the universe have given her a slightly more reasonable companion? Or at least a slightly less complicated one.

Sakura limped away from the quiet street where the Hyuuga clan no longer resided.

-/-

There were footsteps outside, echoing faintly, the sound of labored breathing, and the door opened.

"There you are," said Sakura with some bewilderment. She looked pale and sick, one hand resting on her bandaged shoulder protectively, as if the gesture could help it heal faster. "I thought you'd left."

Izuna raised an eyebrow and leaned further back in the Hokage's chair with an air of benevolent indifference. "Why would I?"

"How would I even know? You get the strangest ideas..."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"Of course you will." Sakura let herself in and dragged herself toward the visitor's chair opposite him. She dropped into it and shot him an accusatory look.

"Take your feet off the desk."

"No."

"That's just plain rude, and it's the Hokage's desk, you know. You're like a savage, or a barbarian, or something."

Izuna smiled lazily. "Says the woman who still hasn't bothered to get properly dressed. Are you trying to seduce me perhaps?"

Sakura's pale face reddened slightly, but she refused to back down and glowered at him instead. "Keep dreaming. Who would want _you_?"

"Why, you of course, Sakura. I always suspected that was your purpose. You couldn't have Sasuke, so you decided to settle for the next best thing..."

She stared at him, mouth agape. Then she frowned.

"I keep forgetting just how much of a jerk you are," she said flatly. "Never too tired to find some new lows to sink to. Madara would be so proud of you. And for your information, you're not the next best thing, you're the last worst thing, and the day I turn to you for comfort is the day the hell freezes over."

Izuna gave her a huge grin. "In other words, very soon indeed."

Sakura rolled her eyes. "You don't even like me, where did all that come from?"

"Nowhere in particular. You have these to thank for my amazing jokes." He flung a thick file in her direction and she caught it before it had a chance to smack her in the face.

Izuna watched her as she opened it and leafed through the pages. The expression on her face went from frowning to puzzled, and her angry blush faded slowly. She raised her head.

"These are ANBU mission reports."

"They are a stellar example of what I call excruciatingly boring and useless, and I find myself unable to believe my brother spent his whole life fighting for an opportunity to sit in this chair, in this stuffy little room, and read _that_ every day."

Sakura made an incomprehensible sound in her throat. "He probably had other things in mind," she suggested weakly.

Izuna waved a hand in exasperation. "He'd better. Anyway, why were you looking for me?"

She placed the reports on the desk, and seemed to gather her thoughts.

"I've been to the Hyuuga residence... well, to the place where it used to be."

"Ah," he said. "And?"

"And I believe you now. I believe that you told me the truth."

Izuna bared his teeth at her in a fake smile. "Wonderful!"

She winced. "Please stop doing that, Izuna."

"Doing what?"

"Smiling like that. So I didn't believe you at first, what the hell's wrong with that? In my place, you wouldn't have believed it either."

"Don't presume to know what I would or would not have done," he snapped coldly before realizing that she was right, of course.

She had every reason to doubt him and want to see the proof of what he had told her. It was only reasonable and, in fact, if she hadn't gone to check out the scene, he would have deemed her foolish and naive, unworthy of as much as being called a ninja. So why was he being nasty to her? She had proved she was clever and cautious, and that was a good thing, because he didn't want to get stuck with an idiot, did he?

It was the same as the last time during their conversation in the living room of the Hyuuga house. There was something about her that irked him and made him want to lash out. Somehow, she managed to bring out the worst in him.

She was doing that again.

He realized that Sakura was watching her from across the desk, a small crease marring her brow, a clear indication that she was likely asking herself the very same questions.

Izuna ran a hand through his hair. "Disregard what I just said. This place must be getting to me."

She put her head to one side, and it made her look a little bit like a small colorful bird. "The office?"

"The office, the village." Izuna shrugged as if it didn't matter and slouched in the chair, feeling suddenly fed up with the conversation that hadn't even properly started yet.

She remained quiet, even expectant, and the irritation grew inside him, eager to spill out. What was she waiting for? She had come to talk or so it had seemed, and now she decided to just sit there and look at him as if he were a street performer doing tricks for a handful of coins?

"Can I ask you a personal question?"

He blinked. "What?"

"I just wonder..." she hesitated for a moment, not out of fear, but rather trying to formulate her thoughts. "Look, I know it's going to sound really stupid, but is it just me or are you really not big on civilization and, you know, people? Or maybe you just hate me though..."

"Not big on civilization?" Izuna sneered in disbelief.

"Oh come on, don't you dare go and twist my words again." She waved her hands emphatically. "I mean, you know how you sleep fully dressed and never let go of your sword? And even now – we have all that stuff that hasn't been invented yet in your time, like hot water inside the houses, and TV, and electricity... well yeah, it doesn't work now, but you get the meaning."

"I'm not sure I do," Izuna replied in a carefully controlled voice. He hated personal questions.

"I mean, anyone in your position would be at least a bit interested in all that. But you're not. And I thought you were faking it at first, this indifference –"

Izuna felt slightly offended, but Sakura drove on, not paying any attention to him.

"-but I usually can tell when people are lying or being hypocritical, and I don't get this vibe from you. It's like you really, honestly don't care." She paused, then went on. "And there are other things too. Like, there's no real food except for the crackers, but you don't care about that either, you're all happy to make a duck on a sword in some unknown garden. And you break into houses and rummage through other people's things and make it sound like the most natural thing in the world."

"No one is using any of those things or houses, Sakura."

"Yeah, right, but most people would still have second thoughts or feel guilty."

"This is just ridiculous and impractical. They don't need it and I do, why bother thinking twice about it?"

"Exactly!" she nodded several times. "See? That's what I meant when I said you weren't big on people. It's like you have no respect... no, that's not the right way to put it. Like you don't even understand why take others people's feelings into consideration. Like they don't matter at all."

Izuna allowed himself a couple of seconds to assess the situation.

His initial impulse was to dismiss her words and laugh at her, hopefully embarrassing her out of her mind.

And then a part of him that was always watching and analyzing said, _but the girl has seen right through you. And she doesn't even know you._

He felt strange. Hollow and liberated at the same time, as if by accidentally guessing the truth Sakura had allowed him to breathe more freely, only he wasn't sure what to do with an extra helping of fresh air.

"Feelings are fickle," he said finally. "People say something and the next morning they say the opposite thing. If I listened to what people said I would only waste my time, and I dislike wasting time. I judge them by what they do."

"But some people actually mean what they say." Sakura was looking at him intently, and Izuna was surprised to find her so interested.

He made a vague, dismissive gesture. "They may think they do, but it is not usually the case. They only fool themselves. Most people believe what they want to believe, and spend their lives as if dreaming. This, by the way, is the reason Madara's Infinite Tsukuyomi makes so much sense. If people live with their brainless heads inside their fantasies anyway, isn't it logical to assume that giving them an opportunity to fully transfer themselves into those dreams is actually an act of great mercy?"

Sakura licked her lips, silent. She looked down at her hands, and he was somewhat shocked to see them tremble ever so slightly.

"What's wrong?" he examined her face and knew that something was different about her. He wasn't sure what it was though. Something seemed to have shifted in her – inside her – and it had prompted her to ask those weird questions.

She wanted to hear something important from him and he was saying the wrong thing.

Well, that couldn't be helped. He had told her the truth.

"You say it's an act of great mercy," Sakura said quietly, "but I say it's the opposite."

"Oh, you do?"

"Yes. You are the ones without pity, you and Madara," she raised her eyes to meet his, and he saw unshed tears – but behind then, again, like before, a gleam of determination. She continued, "and if I had to choose, Izuna, I'd say you were even more merciless than your brother."

That was an unexpected turn of events.

"I'm impressed," he told her. "I've been called many things, but never before has anyone accused me of being more cruel than Madara."

"I said you were merciless, not cruel. I'm pretty sure you know the difference between the two."

Something about it stung and it bothered him that he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was. As if being called merciless was worse than being called cruel. As if it mattered what she believed him to be.

He brushed the thought aside.

"Anyway," he said out loud. "I'm surprised you care so much about my motives, especially if you hate me so much you even think I'm more of a monster than my brother who destroyed all you hold so dear."

"You don't understand." She looked sad and forlorn. "I don't hate you at all. I'm only trying to get to know you."

Not _that_ again.

Izuna blew an exasperated sigh. "And why would you do such a thing, Sakura? I'm a nobody as far as you are concerned. Why waste your time on figuring me out? Don't you have better things to do? Like saving your friends, perhaps?"

"You are not a nobody. And I have no better things to do because understanding _you_ is the thing I have to do if I want to save my friends."

"What?" He must have gone crazy in this horrible little room. She hadn't just said that, had she?

Sakura shrugged. "I've been thinking about this all day and no matter how you look at it, it all boils down to you."

"You are clearly out of your mind, Sakura. Go to sleep, you must have a fever."

Her eyes flashed angrily. "Don't you dare patronize me." She took a deep, calming breath. "Tell me, Izuna... every shinobi has a specialization, right? Something they are best at."

"Generally speaking, yes."

"Like, mine is taijutsu... And I'm also a medic, but that's also about making the body function properly, so basically, if I was asked what I did best, I would say taijutsu."

"Makes sense. Is there a point to all that?"

She ignored him. "And your brother, I think, is best at ninjutsu, right?"

"Madara is good at everything."

She grimaced. "Yeah, I remember that he's a prodigy and a genius. I saw him fight... But I still think he relied more on ninjutsu. He mostly used his Sharingan to cast ninjutsu too."

Izuna felt a tiny alarm bell ring in the back of his mind. She was going somewhere with all this, wasn't she? Where?

"You are not mistaken, I suppose," he replied. "Yes, Madara has always favored ninjutsu."

"Susano," Sakura said. "I'm guessing that's his favorite move."

"You are guessing correctly."

She said, "and what about you, Izuna? And yes, I remember that you're also a genius and good at everything."

He gave a low chuckle. "So that's where it was going. Why are you asking me that, Sakura?"

"I'm interested."

"In my combat tactics?"

She leaned forward, putting her elbows on the desk. "In you."

Izuna decided he was ready to admit, if only to himself, that she had discovered a way to make him uncomfortable.

Sakura was still gazing at him, green eyes calm and full of something he had no name for.

She didn't look like she needed him to answer.

"You're a genjutsu master," she said, gently but without hesitation. "Aren't you, Izuna? A genjutsu master that has no equal in the world..."

Izuna wondered if he should feel special or flattered. He felt neither.

But he did, for some reason, feel lighter, as if a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders – a weight he had himself forgotten was there.

He sighed. "I suppose I am."

-/-

* * *

 _(to be continued)_

* * *

A/N: oh my, it's been a while. I was all kinds of busy - well, now I'm back and here's the update, and it's pretty long.

I plan to update regularly again although it will not be once a week - I now have a new job where I have to actually work, not just turn up occasionally to make sure people have not forgotten how I look :D

Please let me know what you think - you are all awesome!


	14. Every Little Thing

**Chapter 13**

 _(every little thing)_

-/-

 _The afternoon has brightened up at last_  
 _For rain is falling, sudden and minute._  
 _Falling or fallen. There is no dispute_ :  
 _Rain is a thing that happens in the past._

 **\- Jorge Luis Borges** , _Rain_

-/-

"You're a genjutsu master. Aren't you, Izuna? A genjutsu master that has no equal in the world..."

In the painfully familiar room full of painfully familiar things, Sakura watched Izuna as she spoke and was properly impressed that his face betrayed no emotion. No frowning, no eyebrow-raising he was so good at, no widening of the eyes, no change at all. As if she had suggested he maybe liked meat slightly more than fish or that it might theoretically rain sooner or later that month.

That was one superb example of self-control. She only wished she could boast of similar achievements in this department, but alas, it was probably not to be.

Or she could be mistaken. All her wild guessing and fever-driven thinking might have resulted in a fabulous idea that had nothing to do with the reality (what was the reality these days, anyway?), and most likely Izuna was now contemplating the prospects of sharing the end of the world with a woman going slowly mad.

Sakura thought of the hours spent sitting with her back to the wall, looking at the place where the world was no longer what it used to be, concocting a theory where stuff would actually add up and fit together for once and – more importantly – where there would at least a sliver of hope that things might eventually make sense again, if only she could think of a decent plan.

But maybe it had all been her fatigue, and her wounds, and the growing despair whispering into her mental ear. Maybe there was no logic, and the world was beyond repair after all.

And Izuna getting resurrected was, perhaps, nothing but a fluke.

Some things were dying, other things were coming alive. Randomly. Why not?

 _Get a grip. I need to get a grip. Now._

 _Haha! Easy to say!_

Sakura concentrated on Izuna again, on his face, painfully familiar too, so calm she could almost forget the predicament they were in, if only for a moment.

 _My predicament, not ours! he doesn't count!_

She thought, _I need to stay strong._

And then she thought, _yes, but for how long? and wouldn't it be nice to not have to stay strong all the damn time?_

Across the desk, Izuna sighed softly and said – in the same indifferent, feather-light tone, "I suppose I am."

Her brain registered the words but refused to interpret them. Sakura looked into his black eyes, and tried to galvanize herself into thinking but failed.

Instead she realized, to her own surprise, that she was getting used to the fact that he looked so much like Sasuke. There even was – the horror! – some small comfort in that. If he resembled Madara instead, how would she fare? She would end up subconsciously blaming him for every Madara's crime against the world, most likely. This way, she only had to make sure she didn't forget that it was all on the outside, Izuna only _looked_ like Sasuke, and didn't try to inflict her feelings on him. That was easy, because Izuna made no effort to be nice.

Oh gods, she was right about him after all. A genjutsu master.

 _The_ genjutsu master.

"Eh," Sakura said, eloquent as a cave dweller. "Just wondering, but how come we don't know anything about you if you're so good?" Inwardly, she repeated her own words and hurried to add, "And I'm not doubting your talents or anything, I just don't get–"

Izuna raised a hand to stop her. "Yes, I understood what you wanted to say, Sakura. No need to fret."

"I'm not fre–"

"There are several reasons as to why you and your generation know nothing about me," Izuna said in a level voice. "The first is Madara."

"What do you mean?" She scratched her nose. "Madara of all people seems to be last person who might want to wipe the fact of your existence out of the history chronicles. You were like, I don't know, the light of his whole life..." Sakura thought about the eye exchange practiced by the Uchiha and suppressed a shiver of disgust. "Literally, too."

"I wasn't talking about _that,_ Sakura. I mean that Madara, unlike me, stayed alive and did a great number of things that went down in history, no matter what you think of him now. He agreed to the pact with the Senju – you people consider it a good thing."

"Because it _was_ a good thing!"

"I beg to differ, but it doesn't matter now. Madara founded your village together with Hashirama, and you remember him as one of the founders. The founding of Konoha changed the balance of power, first here in this country, and then it spread to other lands. The understanding of the word _shinobi_ changed, unless I have failed to make sense of your incoherent rambling. The society veered in a completely new direction, didn't it? And Madara was also the leader of the clan throughout all that. Are you still with me?"

"Yeah, sure." She had never really thought about the Founding and the role Madara and Hashirama had played in a such a dry, crisp way.

For her, Madara was always the embodiment of evil, the enemy, and Hashirama was... like some sort of a father to all Konoha ninja. It seemed a little silly but it was true. The Will of Fire that was talked about like a heirloom they had inherited from him. His words that the older shinobi would occasionally quote. It was a bit of a family matter. He was the pride of who resided in the village. The outsiders probably didn't share the sentiment.

Suddenly, some of the obscure historical squabbles with other nations, as well as certain reactions she had sometimes got from her friends from the Sand village made much more sense.

And still. Izuna made everything sound so _political_...

"...and then Madara defected from Konoha, which was obviously regarded as betrayal, and tried to destroy it, which was open war. And then he and Hashirama fought their final battle, and Hashirama won." Contrary to what Sakura had expected, he looked neither upset, not angry. Only thoughtful. "My brother proceeded to do other things after that, but to answer your original question, that is enough. Who would remember me or any other Uchiha of our generation, for that matter, when there is Madara?"

 _Yes_ , she thought, _who would? Madara's presence overshadows everything._

She wondered if Izuna felt offended to be left out like that but she didn't have enough courage to ask him.

"Well, that is the first reason," he said, and Sakura remembered his earlier words and was surprised that anyone might need more.

"What are the other reasons?"

"The second one is fairly simple – I never advertised my own skills too much."

 _Attention!_ barked Inner Sakura from the depths of her mind.

Izuna might have said it was all simple, but Sakura could just sense it wasn't.

She eyed him intently. "What do you mean? Even if you didn't brag about your awesomeness at every corner, it's not like you didn't fight, right? Especially in your own horrible time when little kids were sent into battle..."

"I certainly fought quite a lot, yes. In my horrible time." Izuna didn't smile, but his eyes changed imperceptibly, and Sakura was just _so_ sure he was amused.

He was having fun watching her struggle trying to figure him out. The bastard.

She shot him a nasty look. "Then other people must have seen you doing your genjutsu tricks!"

"Oh they did see." Izuna paused, seemingly considering his own statement. And added as if on an afterthought, "Sometimes they did, anyway."

Deciding to ignore the last comment for the sake of not getting sidetracked, Sakura pressed on. "Then how come no one wrote it down or told anyone else? You were all split into clans... so if someone saw how good you were, I expect they should have run back to their clans to warn them to avoid you at all costs."

"Yes, naturally." Izuna stretched languidly and yawned, but at least had the decency to cover his mouth with a hand. "That is the reason I always made sure they never came back to their clans. I dislike people who yap to much." He grinned at Sakura. "Which is practically everyone."

It was a dazzling grin, wide and open, the sort Sakura had never seen on Sasuke's face. It made Izuna look so handsome, both so much like Sasuke and so unlike him at the same time, that her heart ached and started to beat faster.

How was it possible to combine fake and honest, how did he manage to sound so sincere and tell the truth – she was sure he was telling the truth and she didn't know why – and still give away nothing, answer nothing, and confuse her more and more every time he spoke.

Something in his black eyes seemed to pull her in, and she could hardly resist even though his words contradicted his expression and his laid-back attitude, even though he was saying–

Breathing heavily, Sakura shot up from her chair, kicking it back in the process, and slammed her fist into Tsunade's desk. She didn't use chakra because very little of it had returned, and the wooden surface sustained the blow. A paper pyramid swayed and toppled slowly sideways, documents and letters and notes fluttering down all around them, and absurdly, in the back of her mind, Sakura thought about dying birds, big white birds with sharp beaks that lived in the cliffs along the shores of the northern countries, tumbling into the cold, dark water to their death.

The world narrowed down, and she could only see Izuna, still sitting with his feet propped on the desk, still lounging in Tsunade's old, worn-out chair.

He hadn't moved an inch.

His grin was gone, and he was watching her curiously. Or at least it looked like curiosity to her.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, you bastard!?" she breathed out. Her hand throbbed with pain but she didn't care.

"What do _you_ think _I_ think about what I am doing?" Izuna folded his arms across his chest as if to show her that he didn't consider her a threat and was not going to need his hands to fight her.

Sakura was momentarily rendered speechless. White-hot fury bubbled in her throat, laced every cell of her body, made her blood boil.

And he had the gall–

"Don't you dare mess with my head again or I swear I shall bash your skull as soon as I get back my chakra! You were casting a genjutsu on me, weren't you? Why? Why did you do it, damn you?"

Izuna remained quiet for a moment. Then he said, "And what made you think I was casting a genjutsu?"

"Because I felt like...like I was..," she stuttered, trying desperately to find the right words, but the language seemed to lack them, or maybe her vocabulary lacked them, and every phrase that occurred to her sounded horrible and weird and just plain disturbing. "Like _you_ were..."

One corner of Izuna's mouth quirked up.

Sakura could feel her face turn red, whether from indignation or embarrassment she couldn't say.

She would not allow him to mock her.

"I felt," she said, meticulously articulating every word, "that I suddenly liked you even though you were talking about how you used to kill people to prevent them from telling their clans about you, and that's just wrong. I thought," she gritted her teeth and wished for the World Tree to make an appearance and whisk her away, "I thought that you were good-looking, and I never, ever think about you in _that_ way. I wanted to be around you, which I don't really want at all!"

Her face was probably on fire.

"Interesting," Izuna said.

A moment passed.

Her knuckles were bleeding, and her shoulder began to ache dully again – the effect of the painkillers was probably wearing off. Her injured leg was barely able to support her weight.

She was so exhausted, so out of ….out of everything, really. Out of chakra, out of energy, out of useful ideas and things to say.

Another moment passed.

Head oddly empty, Sakura pulled the chair toward herself and collapsed into it with a groan. She shut her eyes and decided she'd had enough. She refused to look at Izuna. He could sit there for as long as he wanted. He could camp there until the end of forever. She wasn't going to move or speak or dignify him with another reaction.

Good grief, that was just so humiliating!

 _The_ _Sharingan_ , said her inner self.

The Sharingan? Forcing herself to stay put, Sakura made another valiant attempt to analyze the situation. Something about his Sharingan was wrong.

 _He_ _didn't_ _use it, that's what's wrong. Whatever he did, he did it without the Sharingan._

-/-

Izuna tore his gaze away from Sakura, now slumped in the chair with a drawn face and eyes firmly shut, and congratulated himself on successfully getting on her nerves. Not that it had been the purpose, it was just an added benefit since she was so annoying.

Or maybe it was not a benefit at all. Maybe he had just made things worse.

Taking his feet off the desk, Izuna unfolded himself from the chair, and went to stand by the window, gazing out into the distance where the sun would soon begin to set behind the dark mass of trees.

It was almost dusk. Another night would fall, and the moon would rise over Konoha.

And what would happen? Would the World Tree appear again? Would it come back to chase Sakura or did it not work like that? Would he see another illusion? If he did, he would have to fight it and he really hated the idea.

Maybe he would have to make the whole village collapse into nothingness.

For the briefest of moments, Izuna seriously considered the possibility of it all being Madara's elaborate plan to finally wipe Konoha off the map without a chance of anyone showing up in the future and redrawing it.

No, that was insane.

Of course, Madara himself was likely insane, so there was actually a kind of logic in it, an elegant solution...

An elegant solution, yes.

Dark eyes narrowed, Izuna looked at the village outside the window.

He could match any genjutsu with a genjutsu of his own, and he knew it would work. He used to be the only one who could make it work in his own time, and apparently nothing had changed since then. None of the ninja that had lived and died after his death had managed to outdo him in genjutsu.

He should probably be proud. Too bad he wasn't the type to bask in the glory of the moment, especially if the likelihood of another disaster was so great even a blind man lost in a sandstorm would be unable to miss it.

Yes, to fight genjutsu with genjutsu was unheard of. Normally, Izuna wouldn't even hesitate though, even if the tactic was so crazy it was never, _ever_ used.

By other people.

Izuna had brought the questionable subject up with his clansmen only twice. The first time was the conversation with his father, and Izuna had been thirteen at the time. Tajima Uchiha had listened, his expression a mix of bewilderment and worry, and then advised his younger son to keep in mind that he had no business getting suicidal when the clan counted on him and his extraordinary talents.

Three years later, after their father's death, he had discussed the idea with his brother. Madara had waited until the end of his speech with uncharacteristic patience.

"It can backfire in more ways than I can count," he had said finally. "Plus it's overcomplicated and unpredictable. Yes, I can see that it's an elegant solution, and you love them, but what's the purpose? _You_ can just get rid of the caster right away."

"Consider it a genjutsu research. Besides, no one else will dare try it."

"That's for sure. In other words, you simply want to show off."

"Hark who's talking."

"Very smooth," Madara had replied with dry amusement. "But I'm not going to waste my breath telling you not to do it because you won't listen anyway. Show off all you like, just don't get yourself killed. I happen to be short of brothers as it is."

 _Well_ , _Madara_ , Izuna thought, somewhere in a place where he locked up all the things he didn't want to see or admit and where he knew he would have to go and live one day, _in the end I did let you down, didn't I?_

Back then, they had never resumed that conversation, never mentioned the topic again, each of them doing what he believed was best.

But Madara had been right, of course. What Izuna tended to do was impractical and risky from the point of view of sheer pragmatism. Even a normal genjutsu was never entirely stable. Doubling or tripling the effect by slapping another one on top of it was like fighting fire with fire. And the ways it could go wrong were so many that if he started contemplating them he'd never get anything done.

It had gone wrong before, too. Only he had kept on doing it again and again, against all odds and despite all risks, until he felt he had got the hang of it, until he could see the invisible pathways of the power and could predict the unpredictable and make the impossible happen.

Well.

What had happened at the Hyuuga estate, he hadn't seen that coming.

But it had been an elegant solution nevertheless. Elegant and deadly. He had been right to not abandon the idea.

"You're all happy there, aren't you."

Sakura's voice reached him and pulled him out of his thoughts and back into the reality. He turned his head to regard her over his shoulder.

"I am?"

"Yes, you are, and it's a bit creepy, to tell you the truth." She was looking up at him from where she still sat, cradling her bleeding hand. Her blush had receded and she was deathly pale again. "Why did you use genjutsu on me, Izuna?" she repeated wearily. "It's just that it was so out of the blue and I still can't understand why. You don't seem the type to... engage in useless activities."

"I wanted to find out if you could sense it," he said simply. "I haven't used a non-Sharingan genjutsu since I woke up here, in the future."

"And now you're happy that it worked or what?"

"No. It might have worked, but against an illusion as powerful as the one I fought yesterday it will be completely useless."

She sniffed. "Why use it on me then?"

"Out of curiosity," Izuna replied honestly, and she growled.

"You jerk!"

"Well, you have succeeded at sensing that it was indeed there. Congratulations, Sakura. Few people ever do."

"Don't give me that crap! Why were you trying to make me like you? What's your purpose?"

Izuna couldn't help it. He laughed. "Making someone like me is the basic purpose of this little jutsu. It's something I normally used to coax the information I needed out of unwilling subjects... Its effect is very short-lived, it barely uses any chakra at all so it's almost undetectable, and it's very unspecific,

"Unspecific?"

"Yes. It simply allows everyone to chose whatever they find most likable about my person and then it latches onto whatever is chosen and builds around it."

"But then..." Sakura frowned.

"Indeed. In your eyes, I'm an unwelcome copy of Sasuke," She shifted under is gaze and licked her lips. "I'm sure I am. I can also see how you are still unable to decide how you should behave in my presence, and that makes you nervous and fretful, which is a rather pathetic sight, _to tell you the truth_. I was hardly trying to make you love me until death do us part or whatever ridiculous notion might have occurred to you. It was all in your own mind. Blame yourself."

She had made him uneasy before, with her incessant questions and the so-called analysis of his personality, it felt nice to return the blow. He didn't really want to inflict any pain on her – he would have killed her already if he wanted – but keeping her on edge, uncertain about his motives was a somewhat rewarding feeling. It was a way of controlling her, which was the main objective, and besides, he loathed it when people decided they knew everything about him.

 _And if I had to choose, Izuna, I would say that you were even more merciless than Madara._

He paused, eyes trained on her face.

So she was right after all, wasn't she? She might look a bit dumb, but she had guessed right.

 _And to think that people actually believe you're the good one_ , said Madara's voice in his head, a laughing voice from long ago, from a time neither of them would ever return to.

Well, Madara really did know more than enough about him. More than anyone else

But not everything. Not even Madara knew everything.

Izuna felt sick and tired of himself. If only he could give himself a break and stop thinking for a while.

He waved a hand and said, "The reason you reacted the way you did was clearly because in your overloaded mind, there is some sort of a misplaced connection between Sasuke and me, that is all. The genjutsu used this as a cornerstone, so to speak, and built its effect around this feeling. So don't get any weird ideas, Sakura – I did not mess with your head, and its contents are the same as before. You are simply obsessed with Sasuke, and, as is the case with all obsessions, it shows."

"Geez, Izuna, you are one generous guy,'" Sakura replied in an odd voice. "I don't think I have ever been diagnosed with such unforgiving clarity."

 _I've been called many things, but never before has anyone accused me of being more cruel than Madara._

 _I said you were merciless, not cruel. I'm pretty sure you know the difference between the two._

Of course, he knew. Who didn't?

He also knew which one was about life, no matter how jaded and twisted, and which one was not.

Izuna smiled again and didn't know what he felt when he saw a shadow of resignation flicker in her eyes.

-/-

"So you say the second reason you sort of don't exist in our chronicles is because you concealed your skills... but what about your own clan? They must have known!"

"Madara did. Others also knew certain things, but to a lesser extent. Suspected, mostly."

"You didn't trust your own family? Seems totally your style, you're so paranoid you probably suspect your own shadow."

"I trusted Madara. There are traitors everywhere, Sakura. There were traitors even before my death, those who wanted to leave and join the Senju ranks."

"Fine, fine, you're entitled to your own depressing philosophy and have every right to inhabit a grim world of death and decay if you wish. But how did you manage to hide your skills from the clan?"

"Because I was rarely at home. Remember I told you I had traveled a lot?"

"Dear gods, you chose a job that would allow you to practice your horrible tricks freely, didn't you?

"That was part of the reason, yes."

"And the other part?"

"Why, because I'm not big on people and civilization, of course. Why else?"

-/-

"I'm hungry, you know."

"Good for you."

"Come on... aren't you?"

"I ate earlier."

"You killed another duck?"

"No. I went fishing."

"Successfully?"

"Certainly."

"Was it Sharingan fishing?"

"It was."

"You're such a lazyass. And it's just unfair."

"I'm pragmatic above all else. A useful quality you seem to lack, Sakura. It's bound to be your undoing one of these days."

"Oh woe is me. Is there any of that fish left by any chance?"

"No. Go eat some rice crackers."

"...I hate you."

-/-

"Back already?"

"I found some noodles. But I'm not sharing cause you didn't deserve them."

"It seems that the fortune is still on my side then."

"Shut it, Izuna. What are you reading again?"

"Top secret research on sealing methods."

"What? It's called top secret for a reason, you know! It's only for the Hokage!"

"It's for whoever manages to get their hands on it, which, in this case, is me."

"No wonder your clan was all happy to let you roam the wilderness. You can drive a dead man crazy."

"Hm. I hope you are not talking from your personal experience here, Sakura."

"With you around, soon enough I will."

-/-

"Look, I just need to ask... did you really kill everyone you fought? Literally every single person? Just so they wouldn't talk about your genjutsu abilities?

"Sakura, if I really had done that, I would feature in your chronicles as the most bloodthirsty shinobi to have ever graced the earth with his presence. Of course I didn't kill every opponent I came across."

"What did you mean when you said all that? Or was that a test too? To provoke me?"

"No. I told you the truth."

"You're making less sense with every passing moment, you know."

"Not really, _you_ are getting worse at using logic with every passing moment, that is what's happening."

"Alright. I give up. Explain yourself, don't leave me in the dark."

"You seem to have forgotten that I am capable of using taijutsu and ninjusu as well, Sakura. If I could get what I wanted without showing enemies more than what was healthy for them to know, killing them was not imperative. Not to mention that not all my opponents used genjutsu on me. In fact, I'm chagrined to admit that the vast majority of ninja have less talent for genjutsu than a drunk spider has for dancing."

"Like, their legs get tangled up?"

"More like their brains. For the lack of a better term. Which is actually the third and the final reason there are no records of my genjutsu... achievements, I dare say I should call them."

"Oh. So, no one at all lived to tell? I still find it hard to believe..."

"You are right to doubt. One man did live."

"Really? Who?"

"Who do _you_ think?"

"...Tobirama Senju?"

-/-

Curled in the armchair, Sakura took care not to put any pressure on her shoulder. Her thoughts were slow and sluggish, and her eyelids felt heavy. She was sinking into sleep and that was a good thing, she knew. Her body needed to rest and replenish both the chakra reserve and physical strength or else it would break.

She pulled the Hokage haori snug around herself, happy to have it because absurd though it was, it provided an illusion of normality.

It was almost night outside. Tomorrow, she would probably be very busy. Tomorrow she would probably be able to heal the worst of her wounds, if not all. But for now she should sleep.

She looked at Izuna who, true to his word, had occupied the couch again and refused to swap places with her. He had suggested she should go and sleep in any of the houses, on any of the multitude of available beds, but Sakura had shot down the idea. She didn't want to risk waking up to find the mirror monster reaching for her throat or the World Tree that seemed to have a thing for her, not matter how kinky it sounded.

Of course there was no guarantee the Tree would not pay a visit to the Hokage's Residence, but Sakura suspected – was pretty sure, in fact – that whatever place Izuna deemed safe enough to doze off in was likely safe indeed. He hadn't gone anywhere else either, and that was another reason for her to stay as well.

There was only one thing bothering her, one little idea, half-formed, circling inside her head, knocking on her door, trying to make itself known.

Sakura craned her neck and looked at Izuna again. He was lying flat on his back, one arm dangling down from the couch, fingertips brushing the floor, the other folded behind his head. His eyes were closed.

She knew he was still awake. She could tell.

"Izuna?"

"Ask your question, Sakura."

"Mm... you know what I want to ask? You're not psychic, I hope? Cause that would be so creepy."

"No. And I don't know what you want to ask. But I could probably sense your agitation if you knocked me unconscious, so don't waste my time."

Sakura took several seconds to get a grip on her sleepy mind and round up her wandering thoughts.

She said, "Yesterday in the Hyuuga compound... when we talked."

"What about it?"

"We argued and you told me to leave."

"That I did."

She would roll her eyes if she weren't so sleepy. "Yeah, but I've only now thought... someone like you, with your unparalleled knowledge of genjutsu... you must have known already at that moment that it was dangerous. Right?"

The springs inside the couch issued a plaintive moan as Izuna shifted. "I knew."

"You knew," Sakura repeated softly. "You knew and yet you chased me out of the house. Although you also knew that I was no good at the illusion stuff. You did it on purpose, didn't you?"

She should be furious, she knew. She should hate him and itch to bite his head off. She could have died because of him. Why was she not feeling anything even remotely resembling anger? Was it exhaustion? Or was she simply getting so used to him and his nasty tricks that it didn't even surprise her anymore?

"You wanted to see what would happen, right?" she said. "You were sure something would happen but didn't know what. So you sent me away to divert some of the attention from yourself. To gather more information too, I guess. And probably you didn't want to show me any of your fighting techniques either."

Izuna didn't answer.

Sakura listened to the silence of the old building, to the chirping of the night birds outside, to her own heartbeat.

She said, "You truly are a man without pity."

"You don't sound particularly outraged, Sakura. Wouldn't you have done the same in my place?"

Sakura stole a glance at him out of the corner of her eye. He'd think that, of course, he would.

She felt so sad for him, and for herself, that for a second it became hard to breathe. The sadness seemed to flood the room and press her into the chair, an immense, roaring ocean of it, and she was lying on the sand buried deep under its waters, staring up at the sky she couldn't reach.

"I wouldn't," she told him. "I would have gladly shared every bit of information I had with you. I already told you everything of importance, really..."

"Which is the only thing that puzzles me about you. Whoever shares information with their enemy?"

"I don't consider you an enemy, Izuna."

"Perhaps you should reconsider."

"I won't."

The words fell from her lips, and in her mind, she saw them make ripples somewhere, on some invisible layer of reality where all change took root. She was sure that Izuna felt it too, felt new cards being dealt to both of them.

"Your naivety knows no bounds."

Sakura took a deep breath. She was right. It meant that she was getting a hang of reading him, if only a little. She had to if she wanted to maneuver him into helping her. She had to understand him, to find out what made him tick. Whether he was heartless and deranged or, on the contrary, full of joy and optimism was not the issue here.

What mattered was that he really was a genjtsu prodigy.

She was still very hazy about what it might entail, but she was certain that she had just taken a step in the right direction, had finally _chosen_ the right direction, really, because everything she had done before that was pretty useless, nothing but stumbling about like a blind kitten, hoping it would work out somehow.

Ahead of her lay a long, long staircase leading up the tallest mountain in the world, and she had to reach the top if she wanted to solve the riddle, but at least she knew where she should go now.

She could feel Izuna tense as he waited for her reaction, waited for what she would say next. That was important too. He was important. He had a lot of secrets.

Too many for one man perhaps.

She didn't think she could even imagine how it might feel to be him, to live his life and know what he knew – whatever it was – but she could feel the weight of it pulling her down and under, slowly and inexorably.

It was just so very hard to even be _around_ him.

Sakura thought, _he must be very tired._

"You know," she said out loud, "I also think your Sharingan is probably special."

"Really now." His voice was flat.

Sakura nodded, mostly to herself. ""Yeah... I mean you said something that gave me a hint, back when you were explaining Madara's jutsu. I asked you how it was possible and you said... you said that the most important thing was that Madara had your Sharingan that was now a Rinnegan." She stifled a yawn and willed her eyes to remain open.

On the couch, Izuna sat up and turned to face her. His features gave nothing away.

"I just really can't imagine what's going on inside your head," she told him conversationally, and in the corner of her head, her inner self squeaked in alarm, trying to prevent her from saying too much. "The most capable genjutsu master I have ever met was Sasuke's brother Itachi – I told you about him, didn't I?"

"You did. The one who had slaughtered our clan."

"Well, it was complicated... anyway, he was considered to be really good and he was a frightening person. He nearly killed Kakashi with his Tsukuyomi too." She fell silent, then said, "He was so complicated himself. Much like you."

"Like me." In the darkness, she couldn't see his eyes clearly, but from a certain drawl in his tone she could tell she had probably said the wrong thing again.

But it was the truth, wasn't it?

"Like you," she repeated stubbornly. "You're all... contradictory. Everything is so backwards with you. You know so much about genjutsu... and really capable genjutsu users are rare. It's such an obscure branch of ninja arts."

He gave an almost imperceptible shrug. "It requires a... special mindset. Apart from other prerequisites."

 _Yes,_ Sakura thought to herself, _a very special mindset that very few possess. But you do. That and the Sharingan. And vast chakra reserves. A man of many talents indeed._

She agreed, "Yeah, which is why we're all only taught how to dispel illusions. But I bet what you told me was just scratching the surface, right? There's much more to it."

Izuna said nothing.

Sakura went on. "And you know what, remember when we first met you used that weird jutsu on me? I thought it was the Tsukuyomi, and you said... I don't remember exactly, but something along the lines of me being lucky it was only a measly mind control jutsu and not your actual Tsukuyomi."

On the couch, Izuna continued to say nothing.

"And what you did last night, I don't even know what to say. I bet you're _really_ the only one who would dare fight genjutsu with genjutsu when the whole world is under yet another genjutsu. I mean, it sounds plain crazy when I say that, and you just went and actually did it, _and_ you pulled it off. Anyone else would have died there."

Keeping her eyes open was becoming such an arduous task. Forcing her mouth to form words was even harder.

"You've gone all quiet there..," Sakura mumbled. The small part of her that remained awake kept nudging her, insisting that if she didn't say it all now, she would likely never find another appropriate moment. "You don't wanna talk 'bout it, right? Don't wanna tell me 'bout your Tsukuyomi..."

"Sleep, Sakura."

"Mm... alright. Only y'know..." The room was fading away fast, and the effort she had to make to finish the phrase was enough to move a small mountain, "Isn't it strange... you turnin' up here... with all your genjutsu talents... right when it's needed...?"

His face, blank and expressionless, was the last thing she saw before sleep finally claimed her.

-/-

Minutes passed, and Izuna rose from the couch.

Eyes dark and thoughtful, he picked up the sword and walked toward Sakura, silent as a shadow. He hovered inches away from where she curled in her chair and looked down at her sleeping form, studied her features marred by exhaustion and worry, let his gaze linger on the bruises.

His right hand went to the hilt of the sword and his fingers closed around it.

If Sakura were awake and could see his face at that moment, she would be scared. But she was too far out of it, lost in the land of her dreams, and a small, innocent smile on her lips left little room for doubts – whatever it was she saw, she liked it. Hers were pleasant dreams.

Izuna felt almost wistful. He never dreamed of happy things.

No regrets then. In a certain way, this was mercy.

His knuckles whitened as he began to pull the blade out. All his senses sharpened, the sounds grew louder, the outlines clear, even without the Sharingan. The world swam into focus, became bright and slow; a place without doubts and complications, a place he could navigate by instinct.

Izuna liked sword fighting. It was a respite from all the thinking.

Half-way through, he stopped.

Before him, Sakura continued to smile in her sleep, peaceful and unaware of the approaching death, and muttered under her breath a name he had already heard before. Her eyelashes fluttered slightly, but she didn't wake up.

Izuna slid the blade back into the scabbard. In his eyes, the Sharingan spun, black into red.

For a long, long while he stood over her, watching quietly as her secrets seeped out through her skin and unfolded like a flower for him to see.

Then he turned and walked out of the Hokage's Residence and into the night, leaving her behind, leaving her alive, even though to kill her would be to show mercy. A clean, painless death, and many would have envied her.

But she was right.

He was not a merciful man.

-/-

* * *

 _(to be continued)_

* * *

A/N.: oddly, I managed to finish the next chapter and it only took me one week. And Sakura is finally getting somewhere! Although she will probably regret ever setting out when she reaches the destination...

Thanks you, all my wonderful readers, for your support - and please let me know what you think!

Cheers! :)


	15. Casting The Dice

**Chapter 14**

 _(casting the dice)_

-/-

 _Amid the kept accounts and garbage cans,  
There's one more thing to be retrieved,  
A thing undone, a thing unplanned,  
A thing I left behind so I could leave._

– _**Charles Ducal** , Incomplete_

-/-

Sakura pushed her hair out of her face and smiled widely – nothing, nothing could ever compare to knowing that no part of her body was broken or swollen or hurting, knowing that her head was finally clear and capable of coherent thinking. She had almost forgotten the feeling!

Thank gods she was a medic.

Thank gods she was finally alone. She needed that to organize her thoughts. Or rather, to re-organize them and, hopefully, throw away those that got in the way.

Putting down the old records she had been perusing for the last hour or so, Sakura yawned. She had spent most of the day here in the Hokage's personal archives – a place normally unaccessible even to her, Tsunade's apprentice though she was – trying to dig up... dig up what exactly? _A Beginner's Guide To World Trees_? A big dusty tome containing a top-secret, strictly confidential research on the Uchiha genjutsu?

Well, wouldn't that be awesome.

She wasn't sure she knew herself what kind of clue she was looking for, but it would feel downright wrong to know that the Hokage's secret archive was at arm's reach and still neglect the opportunity. If later on she hit a dead-end, she would be unable to stop thinking there _might_ have been something worth the trouble in there after all. She would never forgive herself.

And now she knew with all certainty there was nothing useful at all so she could just cross that out and concentrate on what really mattered.

On Izuna Uchiha, for example.

Sakura scratched her nose, lost in thought. It even surprised herself how calm she was. How very focused and clear-headed, despite all the stress, despite everything she had found out about her... companion.

She scrunched up her face. _Companion_ , _my_ _ass_.

On the other hand, what else was she supposed to call him? A man who was not a friend (haha!), not a comrade, not a colleague or a temporary partner, but not an enemy either, not really. Izuna himself might think of her as an enemy, but that was his choice. Sakura believed that enmity was a highly personal thing, not something that happened out of the blue, just like that. Didn't they say that a good enemy was a rare gift and to be treasured, at least until you killed them personally? She was pretty sure she had heard people say something like that, only she had never bothered to pay attention because it was the sort of twisted thinking she had always found disgusting. But maybe Izuna believed in this nonsense, who could tell. Anyway, she wasn't going to let his cynical world view interfere with her plans.

More like with _the_ plan she was going to come up with. Real soon. And besides, it wasn't all bad – she had spent the last couple of days in a way that was hectic but obviously productive. She now knew much more about what was going on than before, didn't she?

First of all, she now had a pretty good understanding of how the Infinite Tsukuyomi worked. Well, as good an understanding as she could hope to acquire, not being an Uchiha or a genjutsu user.

Secondly, she had survived another encounter with the World Tree, and although its behavior still remained largely a mystery, she had managed to put her theory to the test. It had been proven wrong, so what? She was one step closer to the truth, that was all.

Also, she was now more aware of new dangers and risks, namely mirrors and suchlike. She would have to ask Izuna, but there were likely other things one should avoid with the Infinite Tsukuyomi in full swing.

Yes, that was optimism. _Well done._ _Go me_.

And yes, upsetting though it was to admit it, having Izuna around counted as a huge advantage – from a strategic point of view.

From a personal point of view it was a disaster threatening to turn into a nightmare.

 _No, no! I've been doing so great, I can't ruin it now. Stay optimistic, remember?_

Sakura chewed on her lower lip, contemplating the situation. Having Izuna around was both an asset and a risk. It was a bit like having to fight to the death with a very sharp weapon she had no idea how to use because everything about it was unfamiliar and just _wrong_.

If you didn't know what to do with a weapon, you cast it aside and picked a more suitable one. And if you didn't have that luxury, you sucked it up and learned very fast. If you wanted to keep your one and only life, of course.

Sakura huffed inwardly. Learning fast was one of her strengths, or at least she liked to think of it as such.

 _So... what do I know about him? Let's focus on the facts first, shall we?_

Another prodigy of the clan already full of prodigies. _Duh._ Madara's only remaining brother... and apparently the only person Madara used to trust implicitly. Izuna had not really said that, he had only mentioned that _he_ had never trusted anyone else, only Madara, but Sakura was ready to bet those things worked both ways, if Madara's fixation on his brother's untimely death was any indication anyway.

And with Madara still alive out there, it could be a game changer, couldn't it? How would Madara react when he saw Izuna? It was probably safe to assume that at least he wouldn't attack his own younger brother on sight. And maybe – just maybe! – he could be persuaded to talk... Naturally, a lot here depended on Izuna, which was bad, but it was a window of opportunity nonetheless, and that was good. If she came alone and tried to persuade him to hear her out, Madara would see no reason to as much as let her speak, but if she showed up with his brother in tow... He was bound to be curious if nothing else, right?

Blood mattered to the Uchiha even when everything else became nothing but smoke on the wind. One drop of blood of their precious clan weighed more than a mountain of gold to them.

Sakura decided not to dwell on the fact that an encounter with Madara Uchiha was a scenario she seemed to circle back to no matter what. It was too depressing.

 _What else?_

A Sharingan-user and an unparalleled genjutsu genius. It was probably safe to assume Izuna had really managed to take the art of illusion further than anyone else. What little she had seen of his skills was the proof of that. In any other situation, she would be alarmed and maybe even frightened – hell, she was pretty alarmed as it was – but right now it served her own purpose more than his, if he even had a purpose at all, and that didn't quite look like it. He just seemed to loiter around, aimless and idle.

Good.

She could do nothing against the Infinite Tsukuyomi, but Izuna was another story. Sakura didn't dare get her hopes as high so as to actually count on him already having a detailed plan, but undoubtedly he knew and understood much more than he let on – she would have to make him tell her.

She would have to make him _want_ to tell her.

Ahaha. Easier said than done.

And he had the Sharingan that had been used to cast the Infinite Tsukuyomi. It was crazy and impossible, but apparently, there were currently two pairs of the same Sharingan eyes in the world, only one of them was now a Rinnegan. Or Rinne Sharingan? Or whatever. That was probably important. Too bad no one except an Uchiha could know heads from tails when it came to the Sharingan business.

What else?

Most importantly perhaps, Izuna was the product of his own savage era – cynical and ruthless. He cared nothing about anyone's feelings... no, more like he didn't even account for them in his calculations. He had used her as a bait not because he disliked her personally or wished her dead. It simply looked like a sensible thing to do, from where he stood. Very logical. Very cold-blooded.

And completely natural – for a man with a heart of stone, anyway.

Her life had zero value – not because it was hers, but because no life at all had any value in his eyes, likely not even his own.

 _A shinobi is a weapon_ , she thought slowly, _or was a weapon – until the Founding, until the First Hokage came around. He really did redefine the meaning of the word..._

Good grief, how different it must have been back then.

She felt a little strange as another idea occurred. Madara of all people used to share Hashirama's ideals, ridiculous and unrealistic as they had appeared to everyone. He actually had found it in him to go along with the clan's desire for peace. Madara had cast away his hatred and his thirst for vengeance, had chosen to live with the knowledge that he had let his brothers, including Izuna, die and remain unavenged. He had sacrificed personal goals for the greater good, and in the end it had all backfired anyway, in the most stupid way possible, because things had got political and hierarchical.

And seeing how they had been unable to sort it out a whole century ago, she was now cleaning up their mess, because you didn't just inherit the Will of Fire; you also inherited the grudges and the old disputes and the never ending bullshit no one wanted to take the responsibility for. It was just so unfair.

And if Izuna had survived? Or if Izuna had survived and Madara hadn't? Izuna would have never agreed to the pact with the Senju and then what would have happened?

Sakura frowned. None of it mattered now. The village had been founded and the world was not what it used to be in Izuna's time. He would have to live with it whether he found the prospect appealing or not. There were currently no other worlds available on the market.

She would be delighted to put as many dimensions as possible between Izuna and herself and let him figure it out or drive himself up the wall regretting the beauty of all-out wars, now forever out of his grasp. Unfortunately, she could hardly sit and wait. And she definitely couldn't leave him _or_ let him leave. There were three obstacles she needed to overcome – Madara, if he deigned to show up, the Infinite Tsukuyomi, and the World Tree.

And to deal with the first two she definitely needed Izuna.

She had no way to make him go along with her plans, he was too strong and too skilled. That meant she would have to trick him. Or manipulate him.

Sakura scowled.

Awesome. How was she supposed to manipulate a master manipulator?

No, that was the wrong direction. Trying to outplay Izuna and beat him at his own favorite game was beyond hopeless. Well, if the circumstances were not so dire, she might risk it anyway – there was a challenge in it, and generally speaking, Sakura liked to think that she never shied away from a challenge.

But not when her friends' lives – everyone's lives – were at stake. It would be horribly selfish of her to engage in a silly competition with Izuna just because it would be nice and rewarding to get back at him for what he had done.

She would have to play to her strengths. She would have to use weapons even someone as paranoid as Izuna would never suspect could exist.

Sakura got to her feet. It wouldn't be easy, but no one had ever promised her an easy ride.

She would manage.

-/-

He heard the sound of her footsteps over the united choir of birds and frogs and the sloshing of the river water but decided to ignore her. Maybe it would tip her off to the fact that her presence was undesired, and she would go away.

The footsteps grew louder – she wasn't trying to creep up on him at all. If anything, she was making so much noise on purpose, announcing her presence for all who cared to know, which in this particular case included Izuna and the local fauna.

The frogs stopped croaking, bewildered by the unexpected intrusion, then resumed their vocal exercise with great enthusiasm. A duck joined in, further up along the bank.

Izuna shut his eyes firmly and pretended to be asleep. The last thing he wanted at the moment was another conversation with Sakura. An undoubtedly long, tiresome conversation about a myriad of things that didn't belong in the life of a ninja, like trust and hopes and feelings. Sakura seemed to put way too much stock into those, and that was ridiculous to the point of being irritating.

Frankly speaking, it _was_ irritating as hell.

Not that Izuna had anything against trust or friends, of course. It was simply that they were hard to come by and most certainly weren't something one might want to try on a complete stranger who could turn out to be an enemy any moment. Sakura, however, seemed to be one of those people who firmly believed that love conquered all and anyone could be persuaded to be their friend and play nice – if only they talked about it long enough.

Which was stupid and suicidal, especially for a ninja. At first Izuna had thought she was naive, but he had changed his opinion eventually. There was this stubborn streak in her, the need to prove to the world that believing in good things made them real – made them happen. It showed in the way she raised her voice, and in the way her fingers curled into fists without her noticing it, and in the way she held her head and glared at him every time she spoke of the people she claimed to love.

Hell, to top it all, it even showed in the way she spoke about Madara.

Madara had destroyed everything – literally everything – she cherished, and she still insisted that he had been awfully unlucky and misunderstood before anything else. Which he was of course, Izuna thought tiredly, and that sucked, but it shouldn't cancel out anything Madara had wrought. At least for her, it shouldn't. _He_ was another story, Madara was his brother.

And she should consider Izuna himself an enemy, and the fact that she didn't was... surprising? annoying? disconcerting?.. yes, that was probably the best way to put it. Any person brave (and foolish) enough to try to off _him_ or use a weird, dangerous jutsu on _him_ would be marked as an enemy badly in need of immediate extermination in his book.

But Sakura inhabited a completely different world. In that world of hers, she appeared to be constantly searching for a way to justify everyone's actions, to convince herself – and those around her while she was at it – that there was a spark of good in everyone no matter what crimes they committed. How she managed to be a kunoichi with so much sentimental rubbish in her head, and how she could bring herself to kill anyone in a combat was a mystery Izuna found himself unable to solve. Whatever fueled her resolve apparently lay beyond the realm of rational reasoning.

And that was what made her presence so aggravating. She squeaked at length about things that made little sense and reacted in a way no ninja should react, and worst of all, she kept on attempting to get to know him. That was just unsettling to no end. It was like he bolted the door and told her to get out of his face or else he would lope off her head, and she just camped outside in the garden and then knocked on a window pane in the morning to invite him to breakfast.

He had no idea why she did that.

Izuna didn't even want to know what she had to say now. She would probably end up rambling about her feelings anyway or tell him he was a jerk and needed to work on his social skills. Did she think he didn't know he was rude? Being rude had the benefit of driving idiots away quickly and efficiently, too bad it didn't appear to work on Sakura.

He heard her approach and halt mere inches from him. The air moved, the grass rustled, and Izuna knew she had sat down beside him. He could feel the weight of her gaze alright.

He waited for an impatient sigh, a not-so-accidental cough, a lame opening line – and none followed.

Time stretched on.

She was just sitting there quietly, waiting for who knew what. And she was _watching_ him.

 _Patience_ , Izuna told himself, _patience. She'll get tired and go away._

And what if she didn't?

And what if she did? He'd have to talk to her sooner or later in any case. Or he could always just leave, sure, but with the world being dead and devoid of life, why bother going anywhere?

Great choices he had. Just superb.

"You are staring at me, Sakura."

"You can tell? Your eyes are closed."

"I can feel it," he told her and heard her hold her breath for a split second, then exhale.

"Alright. Yeah, I was staring at you."

"Thinking about your Sasuke again?" He wasn't sure why he asked. Probably because he couldn't think of anything better to say to her.

She hovered over him, silent and unamused. "Well, no," she said eventually, and there was some strange, indecipherable tone to her voice, "I was thinking about you."

Izuna opened his eyes and looked at her, surprised. She was close – what was it with her and breaching into his personal space anyway? – and her eyes seemed enormous on a face that didn't appear to be tired or drawn anymore. The bruises and the sickly pallor were gone, and so was the bandage on her shoulder.

"I see you healed yourself nicely," he said.

"Yeah, my chakra has finally returned."

"Good for you." That meant he'd have to be on his guard again. A woman who could shatter trees and make a crater in the ground with her fist was not someone he could allow to prance around unsupervised. "What are you doing here?"

She tilted her head. "Did you know this is exactly where your clan used to live?"

"What? No."

"Well, it is. This was once the Uchiha district of Konoha. After the massacre it was left empty, and then the Akatsuki came... well, all the stuff I already told you. The village was completely destroyed, and when we rebuilt it, no one built here."

"Why are you telling me all that, Sakura?"

"I don't know. I thought it might matter to you, I guess."

"It doesn't. It's just a place." She had reminded him of his clan – why? Somehow he doubted it was to hurt him or spite him. Maybe in her twisted world it was the right thing to do.

But a place really was just a place. He felt nothing at all.

And he thought, _but maybe I should feel something after all? Maybe I should be sad or offended. Or nostalgic._

And then he thought, _I really don't want to know. I'd better leave it be._

Sakura shook her head slightly, a somewhat disappointed look on her face. "Gods, I keep forgetting who I'm talking to... Doesn't matter, I've come to make a proposition."

"Sounds both intriguing and disturbing coming from you."

"Keep your sarcasm to yourself, Izuna, why don't you?"

"I'll get bored if I do. What do you want to propose?"

"I want us to leave the village and go to the Land of Lightning. To destroy the World Tree."

A frog croaked happily just a few paces to the right.

Izuna blinked. What the...?

Pushing himself up into a sitting position, he stared at Sakura and waited for her to add something to amend her statement. She gazed right back at him, calm and serious. Determined.

Izuna tried to choose between derisive laughter and flat-out refusal and failed. They both fell short of conveying his actual feelings. He cast around for words horrible enough to express his opinion and realized there weren't any.

He said, "Why?"

Sakura shrugged as if it were obvious. "The Tree is down on the ground while the moon is just too far up in the sky. I can't think of a way to reach it."

"That's _not_ the answer, Sakura."

"Well, we have to start somewhere, right?" she said impatiently. "I'd love to dispel the Tsukuyomi first, but I'm at a loss here unless you have some clever idea. Which I hoped you did, to be honest."

"Who, me?" Was she crazy?

No, that was not the right question. She was certainly out of her mind, the only strange thing was that she was trying to spread it.

"Of course you, who else? Do you see anyone else around who has the Sharingan? And out of the two of us, who is the genjutsu master? The Infinite Tsukuyomi is all yours to crack, so I hope that makes you happy."

"Something heavy must have hit you on the head overnight. Can't you heal that too?"

She poked him in the chest with a finger. "I'm not crazy, Izuna. And I'm serious. I want you to think about what we're going to do about the Tsukuyomi."

" _We_? Since when is there even a _we_?" Izuna realized she wasn't about to giggle and announce it had all been a stupid joke. He had been right, there was no way to rationalize her behavior. "And you want me to do what – to dispel the Tsukuyomi? To fight the World Tree? You are not just crazy, you are absolutely, irrevocably beyond all hope if you believe I will agree to that."

Sakura went quiet for a moment, gazing at him intently. Then she said, in a carefully controlled voice. "I may be beyond all hope or crazy or whatever, Izuna, but you don't have a choice either, and you know it."

This was absurd. He had a choice. He had all the choices in the world, didn't he? And now that he had no clan, no common goals or interests he shared with anyone, that was all the more true.

He was his own master, he could go anywhere, there was no responsibility to shoulder and no debts to pay. She couldn't force him, and he had no reason whatsoever to acquiesce to any of her ridiculous requests, so that was out of the question. He should just tell her to shove it.

Or he could simply get up, turn his back on her and leave her there.

He didn't give a damn what happened to her next.

Of course he didn't.

Something about her tone made him pause before he opened his mouth to mock her. There was an odd glint in her eyes that hinted at something deeper, more profound than any superficial impression she otherwise made. That look on her face, tranquil and understanding, resigned – and a little regretful.

Izuna replayed his own inner monologue inside his head, re-examined the logic, re-assessed the reasoning. It was perfectly sound. It was flawless.

Except...

Sakura sighed again and raised a hand to tuck a strand of pink hair behind her left ear.

"Come on, Izuna," she said. "I bet you're just too proud and too full of yourself to admit I'm right. Sasuke is exactly the same, and so is your brother – hell, that's one man who kept on trying and trying to win the battle he'd lost a lifetime ago. But you're certainly not an idiot, and I don't really believe you could fail to see the truth."

He asked himself if he should have killed her last night in her sleep after all. If only to avoid this conversation.

"You have nowhere to go," Sakura said simply. "I bet you're thinking something along the lines of _she can't make me do anything_ , aren't you? And you're right... I mean, I really can't, can I? I'm not strong enough to force you, plainly speaking." She scowled. "Trust me, if I could, I would! My friends' lives are on the line, you know. But I can't, and that's it."

She drew a deep breath, but Izuna could say it was not because she was nervous. She was simply trying to formulate her thoughts better. She must have actually thought that through.

There was still time to interrupt her. Time to pretend this conversation had never happened.

He stayed silent, and she went on.

"So, well... no, I can't make you do anything. But the good thing – for me, I mean – is that I don't need to."

"Really," Izuna said. He felt very calm too. Very empty.

"Really." She shrugged again."You can leave me and go some place else, sure, but tell you what, I don't think you will. I don't even think you know what to do with yourself, right?"

He knew he should be insulted. Who did she think she was to tell him that?

"What makes you say that?"

"If you had a plan, you would've left already," she replied without hesitation. "I may not know you very well but you're clearly the type of person who makes decisions and acts on them. If you're still here, talking to me, lazying around, killing ducks and _fishing_... that can only mean one thing – you don't know what to do."

"How interesting," Izuna said in a colorless voice.

"Because there's really nothing to do, you know. The world is asleep and won't wake up unless we... unless _someone_ does _something_. And the whole pool of capable someones is you and me. You probably hate it. I know _I_ do, although for different reasons, I guess. But it's true. If we choose to hang around and do nothing, nothing will change. We'll just get old and die here. Or somewhere else, I don't know."

"And that upsets you?"

"Yes, it does." She looked him squarely in the eye. "And don't you dare lie to me that you don't care."

"I really don't care, Sakura. Your friends, your little Senju village, your whole wonderful world – they don't mean a thing to me. You can all rot."

"Oh, I believe _that_ ," she said lightly. "And the fact that you're so bitter about it just proves I'm right."

"Does it now?" _And I'm not bitter!_

"You hate me and all Konoha for being Senju, even if we're not really Senju, but who cares. You probably wish you had never made it to the future and just stayed in the past where you belong. But that's how it is, and I'm the only one alive here whether you like me or not. If you kill me, you will be all alone. You won't achieve anything by that and you know it. You would have killed me already otherwise," she smiled – in a strange, painful way. "You wouldn't have hesitated, would you, Izuna? You're ruthless enough for that."

He said nothing and tried to think nothing either. He knew she would continue regardless.

She did.

"And also..." she averted her gaze, looked out into the distance. "I'm sure that even someone like you wouldn't want to be left alone with nowhere to go, nothing to do and no one to talk to."

"There is still Madara," Izuna pointed out, more out of spite than any real conviction.

"Yeah, and for some reason, you've been in no hurry to go out there and meet him up till now."

Eyes narrowed, Izuna tugged at his ponytail and decided to let that slide. She was right. He had been in no rush to find his brother.

"So..." Sakura said quietly. "We are really both cornered, see?" She waited for a while, then snapped. "Hell, Izuna, with your horrible personality, you would have mocked me and contradicted me five hundred times already if I were wrong! Your silence is proof enough! Stop being stubborn and just accept it!"

He scowled at her. "Is there any point to all that? Let's say you are right about me – so what? I may not be particularly thrilled about my own perspectives but what makes you think you can offer a better alternative?"

"I have every reason to believe that there's a way to fix this!"

"Oh really? Then you must know much more than I do. Pray tell, what is it that I have missed in my analysis of the situation?"

"Madara is only human, Izuna! Not a god he fancies himself to be! He is human, he's not perfect, he makes mistakes! If he managed to break it all, someone should go and put it back together! It's possible! Someone should just take the responsibility!" She drew a deep breath and added. "I don't want to sit and watch the world crumble to dust. Not if there's still hope."

"There is no hope." He said that in a flat, harsh tone, and watched her jerk a shoulder in an instinctive protest. She pulled her gaze away from the trees on the horizon and looked back at him. "Madara is too powerful for the likes of you to defeat." _Or for the likes of me, most likely_ , he didn't add but thought.

"There is always hope as long as you're alive," she said firmly. "And you're alive, Izuna. I don't know why. It bothers me quite bit, to tell you the truth... that you're so conveniently alive right when it's needed."

"Needed how exactly?" He sneered.

"If anyone can dispel Madara's jutsu, it's you," she said, and Izuna wondered who he hated more – Madara for creating this dying world or her for asking him to do this.

"That remains to be seen," he bit out.

"I guess you're right," she rubbed her face with both hands. "But what I wanted to say is... is that if the world is saved, if we make it whole again, then we both have a future. I'll have my life back. You'll have yours."

"My clan is no more, Sakura. And I spent a hundred years being dead. What life of mine is there to reclaim?"

"The one you have now, Izuna. You can make whatever you want of it. You can," she gave him a faint smile,"do whatever you like. Listen and answer to no one. I don't know, go wherever your heart takes you. Or stay if you want to stay. You can travel around like you say you used to, if that's your thing. If we fix the world, you'll have that choice. But right now the only choice is to die, and say what you will, but that's not really a choice at all."

"And what you are suggesting is to die trying to achieve the impossible."

"Still better than to wither away uselessly, don't you think? And besides, you have already achieved the impossible with your genjutsu and survived."

Was she _encouraging_ him? Izuna shot her a dark look.

"A wonderful analysis of my humble person, Sakura, if a little one-sided. I have to applaud the effort you have undoubtedly put in. But your conclusions are rather far-fetched."

"Well, prove me wrong if you can." She frowned at him. "Come on, do it. Explain how I'm all deluded. Tell me about your awesome ideas. Interesting hobbies you've invented to pass the next seventy or eighty years or whatever."

There it was again. She was glaring at him, defiant to the end, ready to fight even a losing battle.

Except...

Izuna was a proud, arrogant man, and he knew it better than anyone else. But he was not arrogant enough to argue with the facts that stared him in the face.

This battle she had already won.

-/-

She checked her medical supplies, and then checked them again. She thought a bit about it and added some more soldier pills. Luckily, the Konoha hospital she had visited a little earlier offered anything she could dream of and much more.

She dressed carefully, favoring comfortable and practical over fanciful, a little reluctant to part with her usual style of attire. But common sense dictated that pants were a better, safer choice than shorts. The Land of Lightning had a colder climate, and who knew how much time they would have to spend there.

And after that... well, it was useless to think of that now.

In a way, she mused, it wasn't that bad that her apartment had been so utterly destroyed by the World Tree. The lack of personal belongings made it easier to pack. Made it easier to choose wisely.

Sakura had decided to use Ino's wardrobe – mostly because she knew that Ino had always been extremely thorough when it came to such matters, so there wouldn't be a single article of clothing that would fall apart at the seams when one least expected. Besides, taking her friend's things didn't feel like stealing, and for Sakura, that was important. Barging into someone's house, rummaging through their possessions... no, not even though it was technically for their own good. Not if she had a choice, anyway.

But she knew Ino would be happy to lend her anything, same as they used to do when they were little. Sakura could imagine her voice, both kind and slightly annoyed, breaking into a lecture about the importance of choosing the right garments, especially if one happened to be a kunoichi.

 _Look at you, Forehead! Dressed for success is certainly not your motto, I get that, but don't you think you should try a little harder? Imagine if you have to seduce your target?_

In the silence of the Hokage's Residence, Sakura laughed at her own thoughts.

Gods, no. Seduction would so _not_ work on the World Tree.

She put aside Ino's traveling cloak, examined the kunai holsters, sharpened the shuriken she was planning to take with her. The boots she had picked from Ino's vast collection were neither brand new, nor old and worn-out. They were just the right sort of boots.

She went through the mental list of things she might need on her journey and smiled ironically. No matter how much she adjusted it, the damn list was either too short and left out too many useful items, or it became so unbearably long only a complete idiot would attempt to actually carry all those things when going on a dangerous mission.

But probably there was no way to account for everything. She would just have to do without all the stuff she must have forgotten to pack.

She wondered where Izuna was and if he would return as he had promised. Perhaps he had reconsidered and decided to leave her to struggle alone while he sat on the sidelines and watched her stumble and fall with a lazy eye. She wouldn't put it past him to offer unhelpful criticism and comment on her mistakes.

Well, she had done her best to convince him. She only had to wait to find out if the best was good enough for him.

Reaching out, Sakura picked Tsunade's green haori from the arm-chair. She turned it over in her hands, fingers smoothing over the familiar fabric. She held it up at arm's length and the character emblazoned on its back seemed to glare at her reproachfully.

 _Gamble_.

Sakura smiled again. She missed Tsunade like hell. She missed everyone really, Naruto and Kakashi most of all, and about Sasuke it was still painful to even think, but the way she missed the Hokage was different. She wished she could ask for Tsunade's advice. She wished she could hear her awful jokes – even those really crass ones – and feel at home again, feel like there was a home to return to.

You had to have a place to return to. Otherwise, what was the point?

She thought about Izuna again. He had no place he could call his own, didn't he? She had told him that herself, but those had been _words_. Now that she was thinking about her own home, about how Konoha seemed to feel less and less real as the clock ticked on, less and less itself – now they became a heavy load.

She shook her head, chasing away the doubts and the misplaced remorse.

 _Gamble_.

Sakura looked at the old haori again – and then she swept it over her shoulders and put it on, over Ino's sleeveless black top, tying the _obi_ around her waist in one quick move.

It felt right.

Snatching up the traveling cloak and the backpack, she headed out.

-/-

* * *

 _(to be continued)_

* * *

A/N: as far as I'm concerned, this chapter is mostly about Sakura and her character development.

And oh well. The romance thing. Come on guys, do you honestly expect me to write romance in the same way other people do? I won't be any good at it! :D

But to be a bit more serious, the relationship between the characters has to be in sync with the plot, and this story has a pretty unorthodox plot after all. And it will get more complicated still (yup, even more so).

Anyway, thank you all for your reviews and let me know what you think will happen to Sakura, the brave little thing that she is.

Cheers!


	16. Interlude

**Interlude**

 _(no eternity like mine)_

-/-

 _If in the world there were awards for getting everything wrong, he thinks, wouldn't I be the one to deserve the greatest of them all?_

The crimson moon sails high in the night sky, and its translucent glow renders the landscape sinister and foreboding. Shadows lie crumpled and distorted, and somewhere, things move, unseen.

The air is still but he thinks, _the wind is blowing_.

The distance is immeasurable but not in a poetic, metaphorical sense.

In the past, he might have decided to venture out into the night and investigate some of the more suspicious signs, if only to prove to himself there was nothing that could stall him or instill fear in his heart.

These days, he doesn't care.

He has seen all he needed to see.

 _And besides, he thinks, you can only care for so long, and then you have to stop somewhere, some day, and let it go and let yourself go, let yourself go far away where no one knows your name and face, nor gives a damn about your past, and so if you stay around long enough their not-knowing and not-caring spreads, and you, too, begin to forget, and then there comes a day, a morning, yes, a morning, when you wake up and wonder why all those things mattered in the first place and finally, your future unfolds like a flower, beautiful and fresh and fragrant._

He casts one last glance at the dreary scenery and a ghost of derision passes over his features.

 _How amusing, he thinks, not like I would know, I never learned how to forget and let go, not back when it was important, and now that I finally got everything else off my hands and mastered the art, there is nothing to practice it at, upsetting, really._

He turns away and disappears into what looks like a crevice in the face of the rock, or maybe just another shadow.

The world is dead and has been dead for quite some time, although it's best not to dwell on how long exactly it has been since everything ended; and he knows very well who to thank for the courtesy.

He doesn't care though. He may be late in learning to let go, but even so, it's still a liberating feeling, and with it comes a certain numbness that makes it easier to breathe.

He did what he did, and now the world is no more, and the wars are no more, and there is nothing left around to fix or save only it's not what he expected; and then he tried the only remaining solution he could think of, and it felt like jumping into the emptiness only to find out that the falling never stopped, or like crying out at the top of his lungs and hear not even an echo; _and now what, he thinks, if it worked, it worked, and if it didn't, so be it._

It feels good not to care.

There is no one to watch him slink away into darkness, yet he knows he is being watched. To his senses, honed by so many years of being constantly on his guard, the presence of the invisible watcher is almost tangible.

Two presences in fact. Two watchers.

Not counting that other thing, that is, the one that has been gathering strength, waking up ever so slowly, straining to find a crack wide enough to slither inside, searching blindly for a door, a window, any way to let itself in.

It feels so good not to care. If he tries hard enough, one day he may eventually reach the point where this thought stops being a lie.

He feels very tired.

Not caring sounds appealing, a destination worthy of an arduous journey indeed, but giving up is another thing, and he has never been able to wrap his head around the concept.

They say every end is a new beginning, and it is true indeed. What they never mention is that sometimes the new beginning is the door that opens to welcome the nightmare in.

In the darkness, he sleeps without dreams, like it had always been in his youth until the fateful day he took the eyes of his dying brother and with them, something else that was never meant to be his.

Something he had never knew existed in the world.

-/-

* * *

A/N: yes, there will be more chapters, and this little instalment marks the beginning of the second arc of the story. So to speak. Oh well.


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